


Summer

by mustachemoose



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: Apocalypse
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Romance, idk what else to put, just know that all romance follows after kurt turns 18, nightsilver, so its gonna be real slow in the meantime, there's a few mentions here and there of x-men from the comics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-09-27 16:26:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10031834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustachemoose/pseuds/mustachemoose
Summary: Most kids go to summer camp for a bunch of different reasons: they want to have an adventure, enjoy their summer with friends, re-enact a few scenes from Friday the 13th, etc. Kurt Wagner, on the other hand, is going so he can solve a family mystery.Before his 16th birthday, he learns a terrible truth about his family, and the only clues he has to answering his questions are: a deformity plauging him since birth, a card with a strange name on it, and a camp that could hold all the answers he's looking for.He's going to get so much more than he bargained for. Mostly in the form of a friendly counselor with silver hair.





	1. Sour Sixteen

**Author's Note:**

> Ah! This is my first time using this site, so sorry if something seems a bit off with my tags or what have you.   
> This story spans over several summers, going from Kurt's 16th to 18th birthday, so don't expect Nightsilver right away. There will be plenty of Peter and Kurt loving on each other, but for the sake of our protagonist's innocence, and the fact that there is a major age difference, I think it's best to wait till he's legal. I will also be tagging this as underage, just in case.

Kurt Wagner didn't have much to look forward to, not that he wasn't content with his lot in life. He was fine with it all, it's just that he didn't have much to celebrate for himself. That is, until he remembered his upcoming birthday. Kurt would be turning the ripe age of 16 tomorrow, a teenage milestone. 

 

His mother planned a small party just for the four of them: herself, Kurt’s father, little sister, and the birthday boy. They didn't have many people to invite, considering they were German immigrants from Munich that moved to the US about three years ago. But they had each other, and that's all that mattered. 

 

Today, as Kurt quietly strolled down to the bus stop after school, his mind drifted to tomorrow, invested in the events to come as a warm, summer breeze brushed his choppy hair back. Another good thing about his birthday was that it balanced on the last few days of school, adding more to the celebration. Only 4 days remained, and he looked forward to finally escaping the clawed clutches of the American school system. 

 

“Hey, freak!”

 

He also looked forward to ditching the American school children. Just a few of them, to be specific. Namely, the boys now driving towards him in a beaten up pickup truck. They slowed down long enough to flip him off and toss a half empty can of soda at him, speeding off in a haze of smoke and howling laughter. The jacket he wore was now stained an ugly shade of purple, sticking to his shirt, soaking down to his skin. He sighed. Pulling it off, he folded it over his arm and jogged the rest of the way to the stop. 

 

The bus arrived more or less on time, two small crowds either entering or leaving the vehicle, colliding like cells before separating into their appropriate destinations. Kurt opted to take a seat at the back, across from a young lady preoccupied with her phone. She looked at him, eyes traveling carefully over each feature. He just smiled, and when she returned it, he nervously scratched at the back of his head with his right hand, the left one busy holding his things in his lap. A puzzled look crossed her face when she noticed this, however, due to the fact his right hand was covered by an out-of-place glove that only had  _ three _ large digits instead of five. She curled her lips in disgust, quickly averting her attention to the window, leaving Kurt to stuff his hand into his pocket, shame evident by the pink dusting his cheeks. 

 

His stop had finally arrived, so he all but dashed out the bus and ran the last few steps to his home, shutting the door behind him with a satisfying slam. He quickly deposited his soiled jacket into the laundry hamper and switched into a clean shirt, he didn't need his mother to worry about them at the moment, he'd prefer to explain it later at a time when his brain was less fried. Even if it was the last week of school, his teachers insisted on finishing their boring lessons, come hell or high water. 

 

Once he deemed himself presentable, he strolled to the kitchen to find it empty, save for the pot boiling on the stove. The back door opened, revealing his mother, carrying in a basket of vegetables from the backyard garden. 

 

“Ah, there you are, sweetheart!” She chirped, scurrying to place the basket down and envelope her boy in a tight hug, squishing his cheek with a kiss, “I've been waiting for you all day.”

 

She let him go and turned her attention to the stove, lifting the lid off the pot to release a puff of savory steam. Kurt opted to take a seat at the table, watching her rush about the kitchen with a fluent grace. He couldn't deny the fact she could rival even the most professional of cooks, but she was much too humble to admit to her culinary prowess. 

 

“So,” She said as she began chopping up herbs, “How was your day?”

 

Kurt hummed in thought, shrugging his shoulders as he replied, “ _ Gut _ .”

 

“ _ Gut _ ?”

 

“Uhhh,  _ sehr gut _ .” 

 

She laughed, fine wrinkles forming around her eyes, “If you say so, _mein_ _liebchen_.”

 

No further questions were asked as she continued working; the rhythmic sounds of knives hitting wooden cutting boards and food being dropped into the pot turned into a lullaby of sorts, making Kurt's eyes droop.

 

“ _ Hallo _ ?” 

 

From the front door called his father, accompanied by the clacking of little shoes on the wooden floor. His little sister, Amanda, appeared in the kitchen archway, launching herself into her older brother's lap. The boy laughed and hugged her back, receiving a pat on the head from his father as he passed by, making a beeline towards his wife to give her a kiss. 

 

“Kurt!” Amanda looked up at him with wide eyes and exclaimed, “Look what happened at school today!”

 

She grinned wide, showing off a missing tooth. Kurt feigned a loud gasp, clutching her cheeks, “Did someone steal your tooth?!”

 

She giggled, “No, it fell out during class!”

 

Amanda proceeded to chatter on about her day, until their father strolled by and scooped her up, placing her in a chair. She opened her mouth to protest, but she was quickly silenced by the steaming bowl of soup placed in front of her by her mother. 

 

Both children muttered out a “ _ danke _ ” as they were served, their father doing the same with a kiss to her cheek. Before they could dig in, however, they all bowed their heads and clasped their hands as father led the family in prayer, the thick German being the only thing they could hear. 

 

When he finally stopped, the children gladly dug into the meal, they couldn't help being a bit ravenous since their lunch at school was a little less than appetizing. Kurt wasn't entirely sure anyone could even call that food. 

 

Their father began talking about his day at work, a comment or question being thrown in by their mother. Amanda decided to add to the conversation, her childish innocence making Kurt giggle when she ranted about a boy picking on her best friend. Their dinner time stretched on long after the food was finished, the stories they shared too interesting to make them leave the table. It was just another night in their home, their picture perfect family doing what they did best. That is, until the phone rang. 

 

Father made a move to get up, but mother told him to stay put as she strolled over to answer it instead. 

 

“Hello?” She greeted the caller, the smile on her face slowly melting away into horror. Kurt didn't remember the last time he saw her so frightened. Everyone turned to look at her, but her eyes stared off into space as she mumbled half-baked answers to the person on the other line. She turned to Kurt, staring at him with teary eyes, before excusing herself to the living room, phone in tow. 

 

Both children looked to their father in confusion, but all he could offer was a sullen sigh, leaning on the table like his shoulders just turned into lead. He knew who was calling, but kept his mouth shut. Amanda and Kurt looked at each other, the far off sound of their mother’s yells gracing their ears, although it was too muffled to understand. 

 

With a final shout, Mama stomped back into the kitchen, looking more frazzled than before while she hung the phone back into its rightful spot. She dove next to her husband, frantically whispering, her eyes flickering between him and her son. Papa's frown only grew deeper, sinking into his face to the point it seemed permanent. 

 

He hopped up, clasping his hands together as he announced, “Children, your mother and I have something we need to discuss. Please, clean up the table, we will all spend some more time together later.”

 

He didn't wait for a response, leaving both kids behind in a rush out of the kitchen towards the master bedroom, mother hot on his heels. Whatever that was was just plain unsettling, so Kurt and Amanda didn't question their father's request as they scrambled to clean up the bowls. 

 

Amanda took her place in front of the sink, submerging her tiny hands in soapy water with a sponge as her only defence against the grimy dishes. Kurt decided to toss the trash out the back and put the leftovers away in the meantime. When he stopped by the sink to drop in a spoon, Amanda leaned in and whispered loudly, “Hasn't this happened before?”

 

Kurt flicked his eyes over to the entryway to make sure no one was there before answering, “What do you mean?”

 

“Last year, Mama got a call and she got all scared and started crying. Don't you remember?”

 

Now that he thought about it, this has happened before. For a few years in a row in fact. Mother or father would pick up the phone, pull a face that startled the living daylights out of their children, and scuttle off to talk in their room. Nothing was ever mentioned or explained, and Kurt was much too afraid to really ask about it. Oddly enough, it always happened right around his birthday…

 

Something sparked in Kurt's head, and before he knew what he was doing, his scrawny legs propelled him forward, ignoring the hiss of his sister telling him to come back. He tiptoed down the hall, Mama and Papa’s voices getting louder until he could make out what they were saying. 

 

“What are we going to do?” His mother cried, “I don't know how long we can keep this up!”

 

Father snapped, “There should be nothing to worry about! He is  _ our _ son! In the eyes of the law, he is  _ our _ son and that is all that matters!” 

 

...What?...

 

Kurt could hear her sniffling, mumbling something under her breath too quiet to pick up. 

 

“I… I am just worried… I know he is our son, but… but what if he wants to take him back?”

 

Father began to curse in German, mother begging him to calm down. 

 

“He cannot have him! I will never let that happen!”

 

“But we are not his real parents, we do not have many rights compared to his actual mother and father!”

 

Kurt slapped a hand over his mouth, preventing a gasp that threatened to fly out. Their voices seemed to melt together, he couldn't really stand to hear anymore. It wasn't until he looked down and noticed the drops of water on the floor did he realize he was crying. His ears perked up, however, at his mother's next question. 

 

“Should we call his real mother? I am sure she has some documents and can help us should we need to go to court.” When father huffed, she insisted, “It could help us. I am not sure what to do and what rights we have, anything could help.”

 

“...If we contact her, would that make you feel better?”

 

“Very much so.”

 

“Alright… fine… do you have her number?”

 

Mother could he heard riffling through the room, papers shuffling frantically until she realised a triumphant laugh. A few seconds passed and she hissed, “Scheiße! It only has her name…”

 

“That is all?” 

 

“ _ Nein… _ it also has an address, but it is hard to read…”

 

“Then… then we will try to get in contact with her tomorrow.”

 

“On Kurt's birthday? Would not that ruin the fun?”

 

He sighed, “I will see what I can do. Just try to keep calm,  _ bitte _ . The children are waiting for us.” 

 

Upon hearing that, Kurt scrambled to stand, nearly slipping as he ran for the kitchen. Amanda yelped when he popped in, taken aback from his frantic breathing and wide, wet, hazel eyes. 

 

“What's the matter? Why are you crying?” She asked, but Kurt just raised a finger to his lips, pleading with her to stay quiet. 

 

She wanted to say something else, but her words fizzled out on the tip of her tongue once their parents returned, an eerie calm on their faces betraying their earlier panic. 

 

“Would you kids like to watch a movie in the living room? We will let you two pick.”

 

~

 

Sleep seemed like a hard creature to catch this night. It evaded Kurt's grasp easily, floating about and taunting him with the yawns it forced out of his lungs. Then again, he wasn't surprised. Today's events wouldn't stop spinning around his head, keeping his eyes glued open and pinned to the ceiling above his bed. 

 

What did mother and father mean they weren't his real parents? They had to be! He'd known them his whole life, traveled from one country to another with them, shared in all their successes and failures. For God's sake, he even had cousins, uncles, and a little sister! There should be no doubt that they are his family, as real as any other. But… 

 

He shut his eyes, a fresh tear trailing down his cheek. He couldn't help but think: they said it themselves, they weren't his real parents. As far as the government was concerned, he was their son, but biologically, he was a complete stranger. Memories began to flood in, of celebrations and holidays, and Kurt carefully sorted through all of them, searching for minutiae that might give him any indication that his family was really his. 

 

He thought about his father cutting his hair as a boy, which was black while his parents sported different shades of brown or blond. On the day Amanda was born, the nurse pointed out her pretty blue eyes, just like Papa’s, whereas Mama’s eyes remained her own earthy brown, Kurt receiving bright, honey colored irises seemingly from thin air.

 

Then there was his right hand in all its deformed glory, something he learned was possibly caused by genetics as he got older. No one in his family, immediate or otherwise, had anything similar. Then again, it was pretty rare… but still. The boy pulled said hand out from underneath the covers and studied it in the moonlight spilling from his window. The glove he usually wore over it was far across the room, leaving the scarred and twisted digits exposed, phalanges so marred it made even doctors curl their lips in disgust.

 

He growled, shoving it beneath the covers as far as he could reach, as if he could distance himself from it. Alright, so what did any of these physical features have to do with his family? There were plenty of people who didn't look like their folks but they were related just the same. 

 

...But what about the papers in his father's office? Ever since he was a child, his father had a stack of papers hidden away in his desk drawer with Kurt's name on them. He saw them a few times when he would sneak in there to play, but never bothered to read a word. Maybe they were medical documents? Or school records that his father just liked to have on hand? 

 

Kurt sat up and held his head in his hands. He was just making excuses and he knew it. There was no point in denying the truth - his mother and father weren't the people he thought they were. 

 

“Kurt?”

 

He whipped his head towards the door to find Amanda peeking in, clutching her favorite blanket to her chest. Gesturing for her to come in, she padded inside and quickly shut the door behind her, jumping onto his bed with a bounce. 

 

“What are you doing up? You should be asleep.” Kurt spoke softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 

 

“So should you.” 

 

He laughed, “True, but I’m more interested in why you are currently in my bed and not your own.”

 

She seemed to shrink in on herself, trailing her gaze along his comforter, mumbling out in a voice so mousy he barely heard her speak, “I'm worried.”

 

“Worried?” He repeated, accent thick with exhaustion, “What are you worried about?”

 

“Mama und Papa. When they went to bed, I heard them talking, and Mama kept crying. She seemed so sad…” 

 

Guilt began to bubble in his belly. He couldn't tell her about his discovery, it would only make her feel worse, not to mention she might let it slip to his parents, who would like to know how she learned that bit of information. 

 

So he (unwillingly) lied through his teeth, “Don’t worry about it, Mama is just upset about… some adult things. I heard her and Papa talking about papers they need to find.”

 

“Papers?”

 

“ _ Ja _ . Papers they need to sign, they are just having trouble finding them.”

 

She sniffled, eyebrows knitting together, “But what about the phone call?”

 

“Uhhh… it was a man asking about the papers. He really needs them and Mama is just worried about getting them to him on time.”

 

Amanda gave him an incredulous look, only making Kurt more nervous by the second. She may be young, but she wasn't stupid. 

 

“...If you say so.” She finally muttered, unaware of the sigh of relief her brother released. 

 

He quickly placed a kiss on top of her head, giving her the warmest smile he could muster, “Go back to bed,  _ Lieb _ . We still have school in the morning.” 

 

The girl groaned, but complied, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed to hop down. Kurt watched her shuffle over the carpet and out the door, the muscles in his neck relaxing when she disappeared from view. 

 

He hated lying, especially to his baby sister, but he'd do anything to keep her from discovering the secret that could tear his family apart. Even if he wasn't entirely sure of all the details himself. 

 

~

 

Kurt woke up to the sweet scent of pancakes cooking in the kitchen, his mother dashing around to prepare a special breakfast. He was officially 16 today, after all. Despite last night's thoughts still plaguing his mind, along with a lack of proper sleep, he smiled for her as she served him, stifling a yawn by stuffing part of the fluffy food into his mouth. It may have been his birthday, but he wanted to make sure his mother enjoyed today just as much. Which meant keeping her happy and in the dark about the troubles haunting her son. 

 

After everyone had eaten, they rushed through their morning routine of quick showers, tossing on clothes, and making sure they looked presentable before they left. Amanda was carted off to her elementary school by Papa, while Mama offered to drive Kurt to school today. She said it was because birthday boys shouldn't have to ride the bus. 

 

So, after a pleasant drive to his high school, he gave his mother a kiss goodbye and jogged inside. He didn't catch the look of worry on her face as she pulled away. He was more focused on the happy cacophony of voices consuming the hall, every student slipping into summer time mode, almost forgetting they still had to attend class. They couldn't be blamed, the last day of the year was within arm's reach. 

 

The teen reached his locker, turning the dial until the lock clicked and allowed him to stow away his items. Before he could grab his history book, however, his locker was slammed shut. 

 

A hush fell over everyone as they all looked to the assailant now leaning on Kurt's locker, none other than Warren - a fairly new student who arrived just a few months prior, clad in his favorite leather jacket that seemed attached to his skin. For some reason, Kurt became the target of his malice, which only encouraged the bullies he already had to amp up their game. 

 

The blond sneered at Kurt, devious blue eyes drilling holes into his skull. 

 

“What's up, freak?” He growled, “Got anything on the agenda for today?”

 

“...  _ Hallo _ , Warren…” Was all Kurt said back, ducking his head to avoid eye contact. 

 

“Aww, what? Too shy to look me in the eye?” 

 

He reached forward and yanked on the boy's shirt, bringing them nose to nose. The only thing Kurt could see was the ice in his eyes, cold and uncaring. Luckily for him, a passing teacher grabbed onto Warren's shoulder and forced them apart. 

 

The man looked the bully square in the eye as he shouted, “Warren! What have I told you about picking on other students? Unless you want to spend your last few days of school in detention, I suggest you behave yourself.”

 

Warren raised his hands in defeat and backed away, remaining so until the teacher stalked off. The second the coast was clear, he flipped on the boy, pushing him up against the lockers. 

 

He hissed, “Listen, weirdo, the only reason I'm not kicking your ass right now is because my dad would kick mine if I get detention again. So, how about we pick this back up during lunch?”

 

He didn't give him any time to answer, Warren just dropped him back on the floor and sauntered off, his devilish grin scaring off the nearby freshmen. The usual high school chatter picked up once again, filling the void, but doing little to calm Kurt down. 

 

Warren loved to leave bruises behind. Every encounter they've had thus far ended with the teen getting a purplish-green splotch somewhere that he'd either have to cover up or lie about. Definitely not the sort of gift he wanted to receive on his birthday. 

 

He had a few options here: 1) go eat in the library, where he could be safe but also vulnerable to the other bullies that hung out there occasionally (he knew this from experience); 2) have lunch off of campus, guaranteed to make him avoid any sort of confrontation, but this would only piss off Warren more than he already was; and 3) face the jerk at lunchtime and take his bruises in stride, but then he'd likely have to explain them to his mother. So, all in all, he was royally screwed. 

 

~ 

 

There was a little less than half an hour left of science class, then it would be lunchtime. Familiar with that saying “ _ ask not for whom the bell tolls?” _ Yeah, well, it was gonna toll for Kurt the second it rang. 

 

The teacher had put on an educational film to distract the students, but they were already distracted enough from the gossip they whispered around the room, as well as the menagerie of phones being tapped by sticky fingers. The birthday boy wasn't interested in either, so he kept his eyes glued to the old screen, but the narrator's voice was so monotonous, he nearly smacked his head on the table falling asleep. He perked back up, however, when he heard ‘genetics,’ and the lengthy explanation that followed. Kurt had to listen carefully here, since the film was so old its audio was starting to fail, but he managed to pick up something about mothers passing on genes to their kids. 

 

According to science, mothers could carry genes for disorders, but not have anything because of their two X chromosomes. On the other hand, their sons can pick up the bad things hiding in their blood due to only having one X and one Y chromosome, the dominant X being inherited from their mother. Women could be carrying genes for hemophilia or colorblindness and not even know it until their son came along to show it off. 

 

Kurt's right hand twitched in his lap, the muscles tightening painfully. He just winced and stretched out the fingers, already used to the occasional cramps that would randomly pop up. While he massaged his hand underneath the table, his own mother began to consume his thoughts, her words eating away at his brain like crows on a carcass. She said she wanted to contact his  _ real  _ mother. Suppose this “real” mother of his was the reason his hand ended up being the way it was?... He huffed under his breath, it was such a ridiculous thought. 

 

...Wasn't it? 

 

Half of him wanted to say it was plausible, the other part denying he even heard anything about this whole debacle, whilst the remaining portion wanted nothing more than to forget everything and shut down into peaceful slumber. He was already on the verge of being brain fried and it was barely noon. 

 

The bell rang, its obnoxious chime immediately followed by a wave of voices and the squeaking of sneakers across the tiles. Kurt slowly packed his things away and left the room last, choosing to go at a much more relaxed pace than the rest of his peers who paraded down the halls as if the building caught fire. He still wasn't sure where to hide from Warren, the pros and cons of each choice being weighed carefully, but yielding him no results. It was do or die time and he had to make up his mind fast.

 

Unfortunately, the choice was made for him by some unseen force as he walked by an empty janitor’s closet and was immediately tugged inside by a large hand shooting out of the shadows, trapping both him and whoever it was in the dark. That is, until the lights flickered on.

 

“There you are,  _ freak _ . I hope you weren't planning on skimping out on me, were you?”

 

Despite being just a little shorter than Kurt, Warren seemed to tower over him as he backed the boy up against the wall of the tiny space. Kurt tried to make as much space as possible between him and the blond, but only succeeded in knocking over a broom and getting himself further away from the door. 

 

“You know…” Warren began, “I'd much rather prefer to punch you outside in front of everyone, but with the teachers on my tail, looks like we won't be having an audience today.”

 

He curled his hands around Kurt's collar, yanking him up onto the tips of his toes and moved one fist back, a missile ready to launch and leave destruction in its wake. The teen’s mind went into overdrive, working a mile a minute to figure out a solution that could save his skin. Something popped up that seemed utterly ridiculous, not to mention stupid beyond belief, but he'd try anything at this point to escape.  _ Anything.  _

 

Swallowing his pride, along with a gag that threatened to come out, Kurt sucked in his lips and pushed his face into the other boy's, resulting in what could almost be called a kiss, but not quite. It was more along the lines of smacking each other in the face with their faces. 

 

But it worked. Warren choked, shoving his victim away as he sputtered and coughed, wiping at his face like he caught a disease. Kurt took his chance and made a break for it, launching himself out the door. He barely made it out when his backpack was grabbed and tugged back, the sweet taste of freedom now escaping his grasp. It was then he made the foolish decision to turn around and pop his shin into the other boy's groin. Warren's eyes bulged as he dropped to the floor, cupping himself, but Kurt didn't stop to check on him, he was too busy flying down the corridor at an inhuman speed. 

 

The blond shouted out after him, “You're  _ dead _ , you fag! You hear me?!  _ Dead _ !”

 

He weaved throughout the partially empty halls, dodging lingering students and corners with graceful ease. He didn't even bother to slow down when teachers told him to stop as he zoomed by. Kurt barely made it to the entrance of the cafeteria when he was tackled, landing him and his assailant inside on the dirty floor. 

 

He initially thought Warren would've behaved a bit more here, considering the fact the room was littered with school staff, but he was dead wrong. He was wrestled onto his back with his arms pinned above his head, Warren now snarling down at him, a murderous gleam in his eye. Rescue didn't arrive until it was too late. A teacher only managed to run up to them after Warren delivered a harsh blow to the boy's face, resulting in an immediate black eye. So much for getting out of this uninjured…

 

Kurt curled up tight, face contorted as he clasped a hand over his eye, refusing the helping hands of one of the teachers, until Warren was dragged away kicking and screaming. He could hear him yelling all the way down the hall. 

 

“Get up sweetie, let's get you to the nurse.” Said the history teacher as she helped collect him off the floor, ushering him out quickly amidst a wave of murmurs spilling from the dozens of witnesses. They were going to be talking about this for a long time. 

 

~

 

Kurt sat in the nurse’s office with an ice pack glued to his face, bouncing his legs, his heels smacking against the ground in rhythmic thuds. Despite his begging, the principal called his mother and asked her to come over. Once she learned why, he could imagine she was speeding over, probably running red lights. She may have been kind, but when it came to her children, Kurt's mother became a bear ready to rip off limbs. Now, all he had to do was wait for her, and then the fun could begin. 

 

His body was sluggishly being consumed by the invisible mold of humiliation, taking shape in the form of his swollen eye and shattered pride. He was thoroughly embarrassed in front of a majority of the school, suffering from a pain that would last for a good while, and to top it off, this all happened on his birthday. The worst part was what he did to Warren to get away… now the jerk would think he had a crush on him or something. Or maybe he'd spread the news of what happened around school, resulting in even more bullying and gossip. 

 

His parents raised him to be a good catholic boy, he didn't need them to discover he “kissed” another of the same sex through the network of rumors floating around the school. The staff would pick things up from the students, and had the tendency to let them drop to parents, either by accident or intentionally. Just last year, a girl was removed from school and sent to a convent after she let it slip to the counselor she was pregnant. Just imagine what would happen to Kurt should his parents learn of his felony. 

 

The door to the office swung open and in ran his mother, immediately babbling in German as she ran up to her boy to cradle his face. He answered her back in their native tongue, trying and failing in getting her to calm down, which left the nurse sitting at her desk in confusion. She didn't expect a few Europeans to give her an impromptu language lesson. 

 

“Umm… excuse me? Mrs. Wagner?” She tried to say over their voices, immediately regretting her actions because the second Mama heard her, she flipped on her like a viper. 

 

“What happened to my son?! What kind of school lets this happen to its students?! And who is responsible for this?!”

 

The woman shrank into her chair, only being saved by the grace of the phone ringing on her desk. She scrambled to answer it, exchanging hushed words with the person on the other end, and trying her best to ask for assistance in dealing with the frightening parent without letting her hear. 

 

Upon hanging up, she nearly barked, “Okay! Ahem… Mrs. Wagner, the principal would like to have a word with you in her office.”

 

His mother proceeded to grab Kurt's hand and drag him out the room, missing the sigh of relief from the nurse as she stomped her way to the office, nothing stopping her from going on the warpath. Upon arrival, Kurt nearly had a heart attack when he discovered Warren was already present in the office, sitting in a chair with an expression that balanced between fear and anger, an intimidating man standing beside him - his father, Mr. Worthington.

 

“Hello, Mrs. Wagner.” Began the principal, “Please, have a seat, Kurt.”

 

He did so, leaning away from the blond while ignoring the death glare he was receiving from him. 

 

The woman turned to Warren, stating calmly, “Warren, could you please share what happened with all of us?”

 

The bully grumbled, scratching at his jeans, only speaking when his father placed a firm palm on his shoulder.

 

“I, uhh… I got in a fight with Kurt, and, uh… I punched him in the eye…” 

 

Out of the corner of his vision, Kurt could see his mother give the blond the stink eye. 

 

The principal continued, “And why did you decide to punch one of your peers in the face?” 

 

At this point, Warren shot out of his seat and pointed a finger at his victim, shouting, “Because this little, gay piece of shit decided to-”

 

“Warren! You watch your mouth, young man!” 

 

He received a hard smack on the back of his head from his father, making him hiss and drop back down, returning to his previous state of silence. Kurt secretly thanked the man, he was the only reason that faux kiss wasn't mentioned. 

 

The principal looked away, focusing her attention on the desk in front of her, “Whatever the reason is, it's no excuse to go around hitting another student. Warren, given that this is another strike on your already extensive list of offences that you've managed to accumulate in just a matter of months, I'll have no choice but to subject you to severe disciplinary action.”

 

Mr. Worthington stepped forward, asking in a deep voice that could easily startle anyone, “And just what would this disciplinary action be?”

 

“There are two options we can take. One, he can attend summer school, which I highly recommend since he has skipped a lot of classes over the semester. This would be killing two birds with one stone. Or… He can be expelled.”

 

Mr. Worthington turned to his son, squinting as he growled, “You've been skipping classes too?”

 

Warren sunk into his chair and avoided all eye contact, a prisoner at the guillotine waiting for the blade to slice into his flesh. Kurt would be lying if he said he didn't feel a little guilty. 

 

The man turned to the principal, a smile that was much too calm forming on his lips, “I think we'll take summer school. It'll teach him a good lesson, isn't that right, son?”

 

The blond remained silent. Kurt couldn't help but notice the complete shift in his demeanor, he seemed… scared, but not the usual kind of scared. He seemed to be vibrating with fear, like he was honestly face to face with a loaded gun. 

 

The principal proceeded to ask Warren to apologize, which he did half-heartedly, and let both mother and son leave the room. The last thing Kurt saw on his way out was Warren's quivering shoulders. 

 

“Come here,  _ mein liebchen _ .” Mama said once they reached the empty hallway, grabbing her son's face in gentle hands. “How about we leave school early for today? The birthday boy should get to enjoy the remainder of his birthday.”

 

~

 

Kurt found himself on the couch of his home, a pack of ice resting cozily on his eye, whilst his mother busied herself in the kitchen. She didn't say what she was doing specifically, but he had an inkling it had to do with his birthday cake since he could smell the buttercream being whipped up in the mixer. 

 

It would be a few hours until the rest of the family returned home, so he had plenty of time to kill by himself. But what to do with that time, he didn't have a clue. Just as he resigned to watching something on the living room television, his swollen eye began to spasm, forcing a yelp out of his lungs. 

 

“ _ Ah! _ Mama, do we have any aspirin?” He shouted. 

 

“ _ Ja!  _ Your father has some on the nightstand!”

 

Kurt didn't waste a second in getting up and briskly walked to his parents’ room, sifting through his father's things until he found the bottle of medicine. A silent thanks was said for both his father for having the pills, and the maker of said medication for being able to dull away his pain. 

 

Just as he popped two of the pills in his mouth and swallowed them dry, his good eye focused on a small slip of paper, tucked underneath a book. Kurt didn't mean to pry, but it looked too strange not to notice. He carefully plucked out the old, wrinkled slip of paper, about the size of a business card, and glossed over the words written in smudged ink. 

 

“Raven Darkhölme.” He read aloud, flipping the card over, finding a barely legible address. Who was Raven Darkhölme? 

 

Like a bullet, memories of last night blasted through his brain, making him drop the card like it burned his fingers. According to the frantic whispers of his parents,  _ this _ woman,  _ this _ Raven person was… oh good God, he felt sick to his stomach. 

 

Kurt rushed to put everything back the way he found it, dashing out of the room as if the walls were going to tattle on him. He kept going, not stopping until he reached his bed, which graciously took him into its plush embrace. Hopefully the pills would kick in soon, he was feeling sore all over, he just wished aspirin worked on emotional pain too.

 

~

 

Despite the “gift” he got today from Warren, Kurt managed to enjoy the rest of his birthday. Well… at least he pretended to. When his father and Amanda arrived home, they all sat around the kitchen table, enjoyed a hot meal mother spent hours preparing, and presented a small cake to Kurt as they sang happy birthday to him. He didn't make a wish as he blew out the candles. 

 

Then, after everything was cleaned up, a few gifts were presented to him in various types of gift wrap. He could tell which one was from Amanda, given its state was akin to that of a cardboard box left out in the rain. He opened it happily, though, and kissed his sister in thanks when he discovered the handmade booklet inside. She said it was because Kurt loved to read so much, so she made him a book. Father and mother's gifts consisted of a few books he had been wanting to add to his collection, a small variety of gift cards, and a few cards sent all the way from overseas from the rest of the family, some complete with cash. 

 

The family then proceeded to sit in the living room together, playing and laughing long into the day, the sun’s delicate rays fading into nothing by the time they decided to call it a night. When it came to Kurt's eye, Mama told Papa she'd talk to him about it before bed, while Kurt told Amanda he got it from a wild troll. She pretended not to believe him, but she partially did, which was why she made sure to lock the doors twice and checked every window. 

 

Despite the radiant smiles surrounding him today, Kurt couldn't return the sweet sentiment no matter how hard he tried. His brain and heart were duking it out, leaving his emotional/mental state in shambles. He was supposed to be happy on his birthday, but in reality, he was just swollen all over and lost. All day it's been ‘mother this’ and ‘mother that,’ the term itself haunting him. The name, Raven Darkhölme, being the source of this confusion, the ghost infiltrating his brain turned into mush. 

 

As he lay in bed, having a staring contest with the ceiling and losing, his head slumped over in the direction of his work desk, the place where his laptop now watched him with its dark screen. It… it couldn't hurt to find out a little more about this Raven person, would it? 

 

Kurt shook his head. No, that would be ridiculous, it wasn't like every answer he's been wanting could be found with the push of a button. He kept telling himself that for half an hour, sitting in the dark, finally hopping out of bed and in front of the little computer when he had enough. 

 

It wasn't like he had much to go on, so he resigned to typing in her name into the search bar. No results, which wasn't surprising. 

 

He then put in the address, barely managing to remember it, expecting perhaps a business building far away, or maybe even a house? Who knows, there was only a number and street name. 

 

The boy was startled to find the third result on the page was a match. Clicking on the link, he was brought to a website for a summer camp. Under the link labeled ‘Camp Personnel,’ he found ‘R. Darkhölme’ amidst many others, apparently one of the counselors. Alas, it was the only profile to be missing a picture, so he had no idea what they looked like. He couldn't honestly complain though, this was better than anything he could imagine. 

 

The name of the camp stared back at him in bright, bold letters: _Camp Xavier_ , _A Place_ _for Gifted Youngsters_. Whatever that meant. It also happened to be just a few hours north of here, somewhere hidden away in the woods. 

 

As he combed through page after page, paragraph after paragraph, his mind slowly formed an idea from the pile of information - a small, mental statue out of the clay of his brain. Suppose he were to attend this camp for the summer? 

 

Well… He could do that, but then what? What would he do once he got there? Magically run into this Raven, recognize her immediately, and live happily ever after? Life wasn't that easy. Who knows the last time this site was updated, for all he knew, she might not even work here anymore. Besides, it said R., not Raven, so it could've been someone else. The last name may have been uncommon, but he had to take everything into account. 

 

On the other hand, if he didn't go, he couldn't get to the bottom of this family mystery. He would go on with his life never truly knowing the full matter of his family history unless he met the source himself. 

  
This Raven Darkhölme would never stop plaguing his mind unless he went to find her himself, even if she wasn't there, at least then he could say he tried. Trying was better than quitting, and he could gladly live with himself knowing he made an attempt. An answer or two just had to be residing there, no matter how small, hidden away in log cabins settled inside the belly of the woods. So, Kurt made the ultimate decision to attend this Camp Xavier for the summer, the first step to curing himself of this whole mess. If only he knew the outcome his choice would have. 


	2. Call of the Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually written right after the first chapter, so I'm a bit ahead of schedule luckily. The first two installments will be fairly short, so expect longer chapters from now on.

How much was Kurt willing to pay just to find this Raven person? Apparently, the cost would be a few tears and frowns, just enough to drive the stake stuck in his heart in a tiny bit further. 

 

First came the shock. When the teen told his mother and father he wanted to spend his summer at some strange camp, they were unquestionably confused. Who could blame them? This was the first time their son ever wanted to spend a holiday away from his loved ones. 

 

Afterwards came the questions, which Kurt answered with lies, something he hated doing, but it needed to be done. His story was he heard about this camp at school awhile ago, had been considering it for months, mentioned it a long time ago at a date they couldn't recall, and he finally decided he wanted to attend last night. Luckily, no one caught on to the real reason he wanted to go, they must've not recognized the address. It was pretty hard to read, after all. He had already filled out the registration form, all he needed now was his parents to agree and pay for it. Kurt never asked for much, so he considered this the only thing he'd ever beg his parents to spend money on. 

 

Following that was the whining from Amanda, bargaining from mother, and obvious disappointment from father. If Kurt could be hit with a stone for every grievance he caused, he'd be buried in a pile of them. There was a reason for all this suffering, he told himself, it would all be worth it in the end. He couldn't help but question his convictions, though, when even his loving little sister refused to look him in the eye as he packed his bags. He thought she would stop at some point given summer officially begun and he still had a few days to go until he left, but he wasn't aware of how long she could hold a grudge. 

 

Kurt had to keep his chin up and smile, despite the rain inside his skull leaving his heart waterlogged, much too heavy to carry, but he carried it anyway, drawing strength from his faith in God and thirst for knowledge. He just hoped God would forgive him for all the trouble he was causing. That included the awkward family dinners and somber atmosphere that invaded his household.

 

The day they had all been dreading had finally arrived. Amanda wanted to have no part in her brother's absence for the summer, so she stayed at a neighbor's house while Mama and Papa made the long drive to this mysterious camp, heavy silence reigning supreme. Kurt tried not to be offended as he sat in the back seat alone, his only company being a backpack, but it still stung having to look at Amanda's empty seat and be reminded of her yelling, “Go ahead and leave! I'm glad you're going away, so I don't have to see you for rest of the summer! I'll just have fun by myself!”

 

The lonely guilt could only expand from there, being fed by the sighs and sniffles he heard from the front of the car, an occasional murmur too quiet for him to pick up. He wanted to ask himself if he should just call it quits and go home, if all this sadness was worth meeting some stranger whose name he picked up on a piece of paper, but considering they were only 15 minutes away from arriving at their destination, it was far too late to back out now. 

 

Eventually, they turned onto a lone, dirt road, extending deep into the treeline, decorated with animal tracks and pine needles as far as the eye could see. Kurt rolled down the window, the sweet scent of pine slapping him across the face as branches waved at them in the warm summer breeze. 

 

Prayers were quietly whispered under his breath as Kurt caught sight of the far off cabins by the sparkling lake, nestled in a clearing just beyond the trees lining the road, curving towards their destination. He could spot a few campers ahead, walking along and laughing in their matching shirts. Their happy faces only made him more nervous. 

 

They pulled up beside a few other cars, the ever constant thrum of the engine finally turning off. No one bothered to get out though. After what seemed like minutes, Kurt was the first one to make a move, opening the car door with jittery fingers, forcing himself to step onto the bright, green grass. He quickly took in his reflection in the car window, combing his bangs over his eye, still a little swollen, but not entirely noticeable unless seen in direct light. 

 

The air surrounding him was intoxicating, sweet and light as it filled his lungs. It was like inhaling angel food cake. He opted to collect a few of his things as father popped open the trunk to get the rest. Kurt had never spent more than a few days away from his family, so he couldn't blame himself for stuffing a few bags to the brim with every necessity he could think of. After all, it would be a few weeks before he could go home. 

 

He followed along behind his parents, their trek towards the entrance more like a death march, complete with watery eyes Kurt tried his best to ignore. He had to pretend this was what he wanted, so he could only return their emotions with a toothy grin. He was going to ring himself dry from all the fake excitement he had to squeeze out for this. 

 

The place was crawling with kids and parents, trashed with duffel bags, pine cones, and at least one brave squirrel. They could only stand in the middle of the swirling madness, confused until one of the counselors seemed to take pity as he trotted over. 

 

“Uh, hey there!” He offered, turning to the youngest in the group, “I'm Hank McCoy, I'm one of the counselors here, and you must be…?”

 

Kurt scrambled to offer his hand and say, “I am Kurt Wagner, and these are my parents.” 

 

The man smirked at hearing his voice and turned to shake hands with the rest of them, “So, uh, where are you guys from exactly? Austria?”

 

“Germany.” Papa deadpanned, his interest in this conversation about as low as the water level in Amanda’s kiddie pool back home. Mama, on the other hand, seemed a bit too happy to have the handsome, young man talking to them. 

 

Hank let out an airy laugh, “Right, right. Don't think we've had any kids from Germany before, I'm sure the others would love that. Mr. and Mrs. Wagner, would you mind following me? I have a few things I need you to sign.” 

 

“We would not mind at all,  _ Herr _ McCoy!” Came mother's response, earning her a glare from father that she happily ignored. 

 

“Alright, great! And Kurt,” He turned to the youngest and placed a hand on his shoulder, “I'm gonna have someone show you to where you'll be staying, alright?”

 

Hank looked off towards a small group and called out, “Jubilee! Come here for a second!”

 

One girl popped up, stepping over bags with precision as she jogged over, shooting a bright smile to the counselor once she got there. The man leaned over and whispered to her, and she nodded once he finished, making her long, black pigtails bob and bounce. 

 

“Alright, I will see you two later. Mr. and Mrs. Wagner, if you would follow me please.” 

 

Mr. McCoy sauntered off towards a large cabin, Mama following like a bee after a flower, Papa slouching with a pout behind her. 

 

“Hey there!”

 

Kurt finally turned his attention to the girl, taking note of the hand she had out for him to shake, which he did. She collected some of the bags he had on the floor, tossing them over her shoulder with ease before making her way down the dirt path, expecting him to follow. 

 

Keeping in time with her, Kurt rapidly studied her features: she was shorter than him, but what she lacked in height, she more than made up for in personality. She had on a yellow jacket dotted with a few buttons, and shorts kept up by a rainbow belt, showing off her scarred legs. He didn't mean to stare, but it was hard not to be drawn to the thick, pink scars enveloping both limbs. When she turned to him, he shifted his eyes to her earrings wiggling with each step.

 

“So,” She said, “ What's your name?”

 

He cleared his throat and muttered, “Kurt… You are Jubilee, yes?”

 

Their trek slowed down to a snail's pace as she eyeballed him, grin growing like a firecracker ready to explode. 

 

“The one and only.” After a few seconds, she asked, “Are you from Europe?”

 

When he nodded, she giggled, “That's so cool!”

 

Without a moment's hesitation, Jubilee immediately went into a rant about a girl she used to know at school who was from Europe too, and apparently she got in so much trouble because she was sleeping with one of the tutors.  _ How insane is that, isn't that insane? _ Kurt could only nod in agreement. 

 

The trip over to his quarters for the next few weeks should've been easy, but at the rate they were going, summer would be long gone. Not that the boy didn't appreciate the conversation, it was undeniably funny and enlightening (this girl was like the living embodiment of a bottle of soda pop), but good God, his bags were starting to get heavy. 

 

Rescue came in the form of a redheaded girl with a pencil tucked behind her ear. She jogged up just behind them and finally stopped Jubilee’s endless flow of words by dropping a palm on her shoulder. 

 

“ _ Oh! _ Geez, Jean, you scared me!”

 

Jean rolled her eyes, saying with an authoritative aura, “I've been looking everywhere for you, I need your help with moving some things.”

 

“Sorry, Jeanie-Beanie, but I'm delivering this one here to the boys’ cabins.” 

 

Jean turned to Kurt, gazing her eyes up and down, only offering her hand after a few seconds. 

 

“I'm Jean Grey.” 

 

“Um, ahem, I am Kurt.”

 

She raised an eyebrow at his accent, but ignored it in favor of trotting off, shouting behind her, “Just hurry up you two! I've got things to do!”

 

Jubilee adjusted the bags over her shoulder and pushed herself to scurry down the road, much to Kurt's delight, who followed after her and kicked up little puffs of dirt with his shoes. The cabins were just on the other side of the lake, adjacent to the camp entrance, so they were obviously running low on steam by the time they reached them. She wasted no time in choosing a particular cabin, kicking open the door and dropping both the bags and herself onto one of the bunk beds. 

 

“Welcome to the big boys’ cabin.” She huffed, pointing around the room, “You can pick any bunk you want, I'd totally recommended the one I'm currently laying on, it's not that bad. That room back there's the closet, you can put your bags in there. And right here are some drawers so you can put away your clothes.”

 

Kurt gave her a sympathetic smile, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress next to her feet. 

 

“Thank you for all your help, Jubilee.”

 

She sat up, rushing to give him a quick hug before launching for the door, adding on her way out, “I gotta go, but we should totally hang out later, bye!”

 

The boy's ears had a slight ring to them in her absence, the silence of the cabin couldn't compare. He had the whole place to himself for the time being, the other bunks void of owners until further notice, so he took his time taking in his surroundings. 

 

The windows were open, their curtains billowing and gently brushing the walls, which were made of smooth wooden panels, a large painting of a forest being the only decoration on them. Each bed had a somewhat plush comforter in various shades of blue and green, adding up to four in total, which meant he was going to expect three other boys in here. It definitely wasn't a four star lodge, but for what he was expecting, it was comfortable and clean, so that helped to remove some of the tension in his shoulders. 

 

A small bit of worry refused to go away, clinging to his muscles that tried so hard to relax. He was now going to live in this cabin for the next few weeks, with a few other strangers, just because his curiosity got the better of him. His mother and father were now being chatted up by counselors and signing papers they more than likely had trouble reading, all because he wanted to see some mysterious woman. And what if he found her today? Then what? Or what if he discovered she wasn't here at all? Then he'd be stuck here for the rest of the summer. 

 

A headache was on the verge of brewing in his head, so Kurt opted to put away his things in the closet, leaving a bag on his bed to let anyone who came in know that it was claimed, and then stepped back outside. Fate decided to push him a bit more, though, since he caught sight of his parents and Mr. McCoy in the middle of the path, apparently coming to see him. 

 

The teen wasted no time in running over to them, only to be welcomed into a tight hug by his mother, father finally smiling upon seeing his son. She began to murmur small prayers and loving words into his hair, and Kurt let her. He'd do anything for her. 

 

Mr. McCoy stood off to the side awkwardly, clearing his throat after a minute of matronly coddling had passed, “I don't mean to interrupt, but, uh… we're going to be having a quick assembly for the kids shortly…”

 

That was his polite way of saying ‘please, get the heck outta here.’ Mama reluctantly let go of her boy, looking into his eyes with her own teary pair. 

 

She sniffled, “Be good, sweetheart,  _ und _ have fun. We are going to miss you, so much.”

 

Kurt tried to say something, anything, but could only manage to squeeze out an ‘I love you.’ He would've started crying if he said anything else. Mama beat him to that as she let a tear slip, proceeding to barrage her boy in a swarm of kisses, Papa following along to hug him and ruffle his choppy hair. 

 

Father had to use all his strength to pry the woman away, forcing the both of them to head back down the path and into the car, back home without their only son. Kurt mentally asked both his parents and the Lord to forgive him. 

 

Mr. McCoy finally broke the silence that followed once they were far out of earshot, “I know it's always hard for kids to be away from their parents for the first time, but I think you'll settle in here in no time, Kurt.”

 

The man offered a smile, and even though he didn't want to, Kurt gave one back out of polite obligation. That is, until Mr. McCoy gave him a strange look and leaned in slightly. 

 

“Where'd you get that black eye?”

 

Oh crap. Kurt stepped back and combed his hair to cover it, sputtering, “Oh, ah, do not worry about it, it is nothing. It happened by accident.”

 

Hank lifted a skeptical eyebrow. They both knew he was hiding something, but he was kind enough to drop it. He wasn't about to pry upon their first meeting, he could always ask later. 

 

“If you say so, Mr. Wagner. How about you go ahead and make your way over to that building over there.” He pointed to a large cabin in the distance, a few people already filing in, “We're gonna have an assembly for everyone.”

 

“Alright,  _ Herr _ McCoy.”

 

The man chuckled as he stepped away, “You can call me Hank.”

 

~

 

Apparently this building was called the _Mess_ _Hall_. Whatever that meant. Kurt didn't see a speck of dust anywhere within the place, so he couldn't understand the name. 

 

He ushered himself inside and stood by the door, nervous as he scanned around the room. Plenty of other kids had filled up the benches at the long tables, leaving little room for the shy teen to squeeze in. 

 

“Kurt!”

 

He turned in the direction of the voice, finding none other than Jubilee already in a seat on the far left, waving at him like they were old friends. Kurt couldn't have been more relieved. He swiftly made his way over, squishing into the spot beside her, a smile from the girl waiting for him upon his arrival. 

 

She whispered, “Don't worry, this thing will last, like, a few minutes. Then, we can go hang out by the lake.”

 

He nodded, shifting his attention to the wooden platform at the front of the room, a microphone standing front and center. Near a few doors at the back, he could spot a few of the counselors talking; his eyes were drawn to a blonde woman speaking to someone with…  _ silver _ hair? He couldn't see their face, but their wavy, silver locks seemed to shake a little with each word. Whatever they said made the blonde roll her eyes, lightly smacking them on the shoulder before crossing her arms and stalking off to the side. The silver haired stranger scratched the back of their head and headed towards a door just ahead of them, disappearing to who knows where. 

 

Whoever they were, they couldn't have been very old, so what was with the antique hair color? Kurt couldn't hold onto the question for long, though, since the chatter in the room was being silenced by random hushes until it finally settled down into a semi-peaceful quiet. Hank seemed to manifest out of the crowd and take his place on the stage, adjusting the microphone to his height. 

 

“I'd like to formally welcome everyone back to Camp Xavier,” He said, looking out at the crowd, “I'd also like to welcome the newcomers to our little camp, I hope they enjoy their time here as much as the rest of you.”

 

This was met by cheers and applause, a few of the girls getting bold by whistling at him. Hank chuckled nervously and continued, “For those of you who don't know me, I'm Hank McCoy. I'm one of the counselors, and I also double as the medical personnel, so if any of you are feeling ill or have an emergency, please don't hesitate to come see me.”

 

Kurt felt his cheeks heat up when he heard someone whisper behind him, “Mm, gosh, I wouldn't mind him playing doctor with me…”

 

Mr. McCoy went on about the history of the camp, painted a mental layout of the place for everyone, and introduced some of the staff present in the room. Kurt tried to pay attention, but it was hard not getting distracted by Jubilee muttering under her breath.

 

“Alright, I think you all have heard enough from me. Please give a warm welcome to the head of our camp, Charles Xavier.” 

 

The teen’s eyes were drawn to a man rolling up the platform in a wheelchair, an all-knowing calm plastered to his face. He seemed fairly young, but given the lines starting to appear in his countenance and the lack of hair on his head, Kurt couldn't honestly tell. Hank handed him the microphone and stepped away, while the man took center stage and projected in a relaxing, accented voice, “Hello everyone, it's so nice to see you all back here for another summer. It's also nice to spot a few new faces in the crowd. Whether you are new or familiar with this place, I sincerely hope we all have another wonderful season here together.”

 

The man gave an articulate speech, the likes of which Kurt only heard on television, he never had the privilege of hearing anything similar in real life. Not even at school. This Xavier fellow captured the attention of everyone in the room, ending his speech on a high note that earned a long round of applause from all. 

 

When the kids were finally free to go, Jubilee grabbed Kurt's arm and dragged him out of the building, cutting her way through the crowd towards the lake. The light had faded only slightly, rays of summer sun dancing across the rippling water in perfect shimmers, it helped Kurt forget some of the problems that condensed within him. Jubilee’s chittering helped remove the rest. 

 

“Oh my gosh, I hate how stuffy it gets in there!” She groaned, twisting a lock of her hair with a manicured finger. Kurt hummed in reply, more interested in watching the lake currently being inhabited by a few campers dipping their feet in. She didn't seem to notice his lack of attention, however, as she went on, delving into a story about the gorgeous football players at school. 

 

While she talked, a pleasant thought took over the boy's mind of his family, and how much they would've loved to be here.  Amanda would've jumped into the water straight away, no questions asked, and she wouldn't have bothered to switch into a proper swimsuit. Mama would scold her, but laugh just the same, and Papa would tell the girl she swam like a little mermaid. He wondered if Amanda would be mad if she knew the reason he was really here. 

 

“-and you would not believe how much this guy can bench press, it's like totally- Hey! Kurt! Are you even listening to me?” 

 

Kurt turned to her, owlishly blinking as he opened his mouth to speak, but his words seemed to evaporate out of his mouth. He caught sight of silver hair once more, just beyond the girl in front of him, who now stood with her hands on her hips. She followed his gaze and turned around, huffing once she saw what he was ogling. 

 

“That's Peter. Ignore him, he's a huge dork.” She said matter-of-factly, sashaying away. Kurt nearly tripped over himself to follow, still concentrating on the silver-haired stranger - Peter. Now he had a clear view of the man walking up the path towards them: he sported a faded Pink Floyd t-shirt, torn jeans, and a large pair of headphones that whisked him away to another reality, judging by the lost, dreamy look on his face. Peter strolled right by them, unaware of the uninterested glance from Jubilee and childish peering from her companion. 

 

The man couldn't have been a day over 25, so why on earth was his hair the color of dusty spiderwebs? It was obviously dyed that way, Kurt knew that much, but he was curious as to why. Out of any pigment to bleach your hair, why silver? Not that it looked bad, or anything…

 

Peter flicked his head in their direction, so Kurt whipped his head forward, cheeks burning at nearly being caught. He decided it would be best to just listen to Jubilee’s current story of two of her teachers having a torrid affair. By the time they made it to the dock, the only lesson he managed to pull from her tale was to avoid such drama like it was the plague, because according to her, the affair ruined two marriages and resulted in a child. 

 

Jubilee let out a hushed gasp, quickly slapping Kurt on the shoulder while frantically pointing to the dock’s edge, where Jean resided with a boy next to her. They seemed to be talking, laughing occasionally. 

 

“Oooh, my God, is Jean flirting with a boy?!” She loudly whispered, shaking Kurt around like a puppy with a toy. Obviously Jean heard her, turning around in their direction, her companion doing the same. He was fairly handsome, with slicked back hair and a pair of red sunglasses. Jubilee couldn't help but squeal at this discovery. 

 

“Uh, hi?” Jean asked, moving to stand up and walk over. Kurt couldn't deny she was somewhat intimidating, given the harsh stare she was giving the two intruders.  

 

Jubilee shook her shoulders, giggling, “He's cute! Who is he?”

 

The redhead opened her mouth to tell her to hush up and quit asking questions, but the boy waved a hand and shouted, “I'm Scott!” 

 

Jean slapped a hand against her own forehead as the bubbly girl skipped over to him, squatting down and swamping him with an onslaught of questions. There was no stopping her, honestly. Before the redhead could begin to strangle her, Hank appeared behind them, startling everyone when he said, “Ah! There you are, I've been looking for you everywhere.”

 

He moved forward and leaned over to Kurt, whispering, “Do you mind coming with me for a second?”

 

Initially, he wanted to say no, but given the murder about to take place in front of him and his kind disposition, the teen nodded and followed along behind him. 

 

The last thing he heard before he got too far was, “Jubilee! Give him his glasses back!”

 

~

 

Hank seemed like a nice enough man, somewhat nerdy, but all in all he could be called trustworthy. That didn't make Kurt feel any better, though, since he was being led to a large cabin settled amongst a few others that were apparently offices and the like. He wasn't in trouble, was he? 

 

“Come in, please.” Hank said, opening the door, gently ushering the boy inside. The room smelled like a hospital, the perfume of latex gloves and sterile plastic strong enough to choke. The buzzing of the overhead light didn't help. Hank motioned for Kurt to sit in a chair by the door, and proceeded to dash about the room, opening drawers and cabinets, collecting a few things in his hands. 

 

“Alright, Kurt, could you please push your hair back?” 

 

The teen gulped, but did as he was told, the man squatting down in front of him with a cotton ball in his hand. Kurt was too focused on the icy blue of Hank's irises to notice him dipping the cotton in some sort of medicine, and bring it to his partially healed black eye. The cold sting of whatever it was brought him back to reality, forcing a hiss out his mouth, until the medicine left a cool, tingling sensation on his skin. 

 

Hank offered a sympathetic smile, talking as he got back up to put his things away, “Sorry about that, but the salve I put on your eye should help it heal faster. It should disappear in no time if you keep applying a little each day.”

 

He handed a bottle of the salve to Kurt, patting his shoulder before letting him get up to go. The boy was halfway out the door when he nearly bumped into the blonde woman he spotted earlier in the Mess Hall. They exchanged glances for a few seconds, then she moved to the side, saying a simple ‘excuse me.’ Kurt didn't think twice about it as he trotted off, deciding it was time to do a little bit of exploring on his own. 

 

The blonde closed the door behind her, moving up behind Hank and chirped, “Hey there, Mr. McCoy. Care to be my nurse for today?”

 

He chuckled, speaking to her over his shoulder, “Any time, Raven.”

 

She took a seat on one of the chairs, sinking into it gratefully. 

 

“So… anything interesting happen today?”

 

He hummed in thought, shrugging his shoulders, “Not much. I helped that German kid with a black eye, but other than that, our campers are luckily intact.”

 

“German kid?”

 

“Yeah,” Hank turned to her, taking note of the sudden interest on her face, “Poor boy was trying to hide his shiner under his bangs. But… it's interesting…”

 

“What is?”

 

Hank shrugged and continued, “He was wearing a glove over one of his hands.”

 

“...So?”

 

"I only saw three fingers on it.”

 

When Hank turned to her, she looked confused, but intrigued. 

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah. Either he lost them or maybe it could be ectrodactyly, or something… Hey, didn't you used to know someone who had that?”

 

She stared at him for a few silent seconds, hesitation clear as day in her eyes, until she sighed, “Um… yeah.”

 

He opened his mouth to ask another question, but he caught the look on her face. She looked at him sadly, a quiet plea to discontinue this conversation present on her lips. 

 

“Uh…” He stepped closer, but avoided direct eye contact. “You wanna go for a walk?”

 

“...Sure.”

 

~

 

Kurt strolled along, weaving between cabins at his own pace, enjoying the gentle warmth spilling from the dying sun. In a few hours, it would go to sleep, and so could he. Until then, he was going to soak up the sunlight and map out the grounds for himself. 

 

According to the layout, the administrative buildings, Mess Hall, and any other place for the campers to congregate together were all located near the entrance. The girls’ cabins and bathroom/showers (which seemed to be just a giant locker room) were caught halfway between the boys’ space and said entrance. The boys’ cabins had a similar layout, the only difference being that there was a faded path that extended into the woods to the side. All buildings faced the lake, eternally forced to gaze upon the sparkling pool. 

 

Kurt found himself sneaking around the boys’ cabins, more interested in venturing a tiny bit into the treeline than anything else. Just as he passed the bathrooms, he felt himself jump when he heard loud tapping. He turned to the source, finding none other than Peter, leaning against the large cabin, tapping to the beat of whatever he was listening to. 

 

Peter opened his eyes to look at him. There was no escaping his gaze this time, so Kurt stood there awkwardly, a cat caught in headlights. The man pulled down his headphones and smiled, pushing off the wood to saunter over. The teen’s heart began to race. Despite the sunny grin, for all he knew, the man could've been ready to berate him like a child. It was natural for teens to be wary of authority figures, after all.

 

“‘Sup, man? You sneaking off to go smoke or something?”

 

Kurt sputtered, failing to deny the accusation, but clamped his mouth shut when Peter laughed, “Calm down, dude! I'm just messing with ya.”

 

The teen suddenly wished he was a little shorter, given that he was about the same height as Peter, essentially forcing him to make eye contact. The other man had eyes like a child, large brown irises looking back at him with a combination of innocence and mischief. And, now that he was closer, Kurt couldn't deny the fact he was good-looking, the silver locks he had framing his face in an almost angelic manner. Kurt had once heard the term ‘pretty boy,’ which seemed to fit perfectly in this situation. 

 

“Nice shiner, by the way.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Peter pointed to his partially covered eye, barely brushing the bangs out of the way. 

 

“Your black eye? Where'd you get it? If you don't mind me asking.” 

 

Kurt went to pick at the glove covering his right hand, forgetting about his deformity in his panic. The man looked at it, but kept his mouth shut, choosing to focus on the teen’s face instead. Kurt was grateful for that.

 

The boy took in a shaky breath, “It is, uh… it’s a long story.”

 

Peter flashed him one hell of a smile, brushing his wavy hair back, “Lucky for you, I've got plenty of time.”

 

He motioned for the boy to follow and went back to sit against the cabin, patting the space next to him. With the timidity of a rabbit, Kurt followed, taking a spot next to him, as staunch as the wooden wall behind them. 

 

“I don't think I caught your name, by the way.” Peter said. 

 

“It is Kurt.”

 

“Alright, Kurt,” He tilted his head and patted the teen’s knee, “Please enlighten me as to how you let your face get smashed.”

 

Kurt snorted, chuckling at his choice of words. First off, he stated clear as day that he didn't choose to let it happen, quite on the contrary, he did his best to avoid something like this. Then, he delved into the details of his harrowing experience, and Peter seemed very interested, judging by how he was leaning in and watching him like a cat watching a canary. 

 

When Kurt finally stopped to breathe, Peter piped up, “So, wait a minute, you're telling me… you  _ kissed _ your bully to get away from him?”

 

For the third time that day, the boy felt his cheeks heat up as he rushed to add, “ _ Nein!  _ I mean… I panicked and it was not really even a kiss, it cannot  _ qualify _ as one… I saw my cousin do it once, and it worked for her!”

 

Peter let out a sharp laugh, only making Kurt more jittery, until the man wrapped an arm around his shoulder, “That's… wow, dude, that's fantastic, really.”

 

“It… is?”

 

“Yeah, man! I mean,” He lifted a hand up, searching for words, “You could've done anything to get away, but you chose to kiss the jerk,  _ then _ nail him in the nads. Really, you can't make that shit up! Gives whole new meaning to ‘love thy enemy,’ ya know?”

 

When Peter released another sweet smile, Kurt felt every problem stuck in his muscles melt away, finally allowing his body to achieve a state of total relaxation. Peter just seemed to have an uncanny charm to him, an attitude he wore on his sleeve that was so inviting and warm, he could give the sun a run for its money. 

 

“Can I ask you something?” Kurt heard himself say before realizing the words were coming out of his mouth. 

 

“Shoot.”

 

He fumbled for a few seconds, looking away when he finally managed to find what he wanted to say, “If you do not mind me asking, but… why is your hair silver?”

 

Peter gave him a sagely nod, letting his head fall back against the wall and eyes slip close, “Silver is my favorite color, and I have no impulse control. You should've seen my mom's face the first time I did it, I thought she was going to pass out. But, eh, I've been doing it for years now, I think everyone's forgotten my actual hair color.”

 

“What is it?”

 

Peter peeked an eye open at the teen, an impish smirk growing on his lips. 

 

“I'll tell you if you answer a question for me.”

 

A ripple of nervousness bloomed in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't going to ask about his hand, was he? Despite the little voice in his head screaming that this was a bad idea, he nodded. 

 

Peter leaned in really close and looked directly into his face, asking, “Are you wearing colored contacts?”

 

An odd wave of relief swallowed him up, leaving Kurt unable to answer for a few seconds. He really wasn't expecting that to be the question. When he mumbled no, Peter shot back to his original spot in disbelief. 

 

“What? No way, really?! Dude, your eyes are, like,  _ way _ too pretty to be real. And you know I'm being serious, because I don't remember the last time I called another guy's eyes pretty.”

 

He crossed his arms and pursed his lips in thought, unaware of the imaginary sucker punch he just gave to the kid. Did he honestly just call his eyes pretty? The only compliments he ever got were from teachers over his schoolwork or his own mother, this was new. 

 

Peter suddenly stood up and stretched, yawning, “It's been fun, Kurt, but I've got shit to do, even though I don't wanna do it. So, I guess I'll catch you later.” He turned to Kurt, shooting him a grin as he said, “Oh, and by the way, my hair's brown. Pretty boring, huh?”

 

The man sauntered off out of sight, leaving Kurt clutching onto his knees in an iron grip. His heart was palpitating, rattling around his ribcage and refusing to return to its original spot calmly. He couldn't understand it. Why did he feel so nervous now? The man had been nothing but friendly and welcoming, and here Kurt was, floundering around like the teenager he was. 

  
He didn't realize it, but it was here, at this point in time, when the seeds of confusion were planted, only to grow bigger as the summer passed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not all that crazy about how this came out, but it covers what I need it to, so I won't bother trying to change it. Again, comments and critiques would be appreciated. I might include my Tumblr in the future, should anyone want to reach me, but I'd feel more comfortable sharing it once I have more content. Thank you.


	3. How to Catch a Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be posted on Wednesday, but I just had the hardest time writing this! Tbh, I think I rewrote this about 5-6 times, which put me behind schedule. I'd appreciate any feedback or comments, seeing as I literally have no one to help edit and review my work.  
> I'll try to update on a regular schedule, but I'm currently working on a cosplay, so I'm going to be a bit swamped til further notice. Anyway, please enjoy!

Most of the time when kids groaned and yawned in the morning, it was due to lack of sleep. For Kurt, it was from wracking his brain to hell just looking for anything related to his mother - this mysterious Raven. He might as well be looking for actual ravens, he'd have a better time finding them instead. 

 

Everyone was currently in the Mess Hall, stuffed to the brim with half-asleep campers barely awake enough to shovel breakfast in their mouths. Oddly enough, Jubilee seemed perfectly alert, happily chatting away to their group of friends consisting of Kurt, Jean, and Scott. She was like a bee among drooping flowers. Kurt tried his hardest to pay attention, but her words all just seemed to blur together. Half of him wanted to keep piecing together how he could find Raven, the other half wanted to shut down and let him drop his face into his lukewarm oatmeal. 

 

It had been a few days, a little over a week at most, and he had still gotten nowhere. From the moment he got a chance to ask anyone, all he got was confused looks. According to the counselors, they didn't know of anyone named Raven. He didn't get the chance to ask everyone, but the majority consensus was that Raven didn't exist here. So, that was a dead end. 

 

Kurt let out a hard sigh, taking a harsh bite out of the dry toast on his tray. Why was this so frustrating? He knew for a fact that all the pieces to solving this puzzle were here, but they refused to show themselves and did their best to keep him in the dark. Was there some supernatural force at work trying its best to hinder his search? Or was God just telling him to be happy with what he had and stop asking questions? Whatever the reason was, he was on the verge of a major migraine the longer he thought about it. 

 

“Hey, are you okay?” Scott asked, waving a hand in front of Kurt’s face. 

 

The boy could only peer up at him through his bangs and force a smile, nodding his head. Luckily, Scott accepted it and turned his attention back to Jean, scooting a tiny bit closer to her. 

 

“Oh my god, she's such a weirdo.”

 

That voice was unfamiliar. Kurt turned to its source, which seemed to come from a boy on his far right. He didn't mean to pry, but with the boy and his companion flicking their eyes in his direction, Kurt figured he had the right to know what exactly they were gossiping about. 

 

“ _ Pfft,  _ say it louder, dumbass, I don't think she heard you.”

 

“You know it's true.”

 

“Yeah, but she's more creepy than weird. Especially since she always knows when we're trying to sneak down the  _ old trail _ .”

 

“That reminds me, you wanna try again later?”

 

“Maybe, but I'm pretty sure  _ Phoenix _ over there lives in the woods.”

 

The duo laughed and switched to another topic, prompting Kurt to turn back to his friends. He nearly had a heart attack when he looked up at Jean to find her staring at him, an all-knowing look in her eye. Her gaze flicked between Kurt and the two gossipers, ending with a mild smile at the former before she returned to her meal. 

 

While a few questions began forming on the tip of his tongue, he smothered them all in his throat under a spoonful of oatmeal. That look of hers alone was terrifying, he didn't want to know what would happen should he ask. 

 

The rest of breakfast passed as usual, prompting the campers to step outside to start the day once they finished. Schedule demanded everyone participate in some vigorous activity to wake them up, so the kids were divided into groups and sent off in different directions. Jubilee and Jean were roped into archery, which left Kurt and Scott stuck canoeing on the lake. Kurt didn't mind, but he couldn't help but smile in sympathy at his companion who stared off at Jean till she disappeared from view. 

 

As their small group headed towards the dock, Scott turned to him and asked, “You think Jean likes me?”

 

Kurt had to hold back a guffaw, settling on saying, “I believe so.”

 

That was enough to satisfy the other boy, now combing back his hair and grinning like he won the lottery. The joy seemed to fizzle out once they arrived at their destination, a wave of groans coming from those exhausted few who sure as hell didn't want to participate. Too bad for them the counselors supervising - Kitty and Sean - were just too good at convincing the kids to climb in the canoes. And by convince, they were more along the lines of yelling like really motivational drill sergeants. 

 

Kurt managed to find himself paired up with Scott and two other boys, almost all of them not truly suited to the small boat as it drifted over the water. The only one who would keep them from tipping over was some kid called Cannonball, so that was a small blessing in disguise.

 

Speaking of which, it was a miracle they managed to paddle towards the middle of the lake incident free, given a few of the other canoes were either threatening to capsize or held inhabitants busy trying to knock each other over the head with paddles. Who could blame them? Camp hadn't started too long ago and they didn't get many opportunities to get on the lake, so the veterans were rusty and the newbies were confused. Being tired sure didn't help. 

 

“Whoa! Look over there!” said one of the boys, only known as Sunspot. 

 

They all looked in the direction he pointed in, finding a narrow path of water in the distance, snuggled between some trees, so it was easy to miss. Turned out the lake was being fed by a little river attached to it like a parasite. Kurt was a tad curious, but he didn't expect the canoe to start drifting in its direction. 

 

The teen mumbled, “Um… are you sure we should be going over there?”

 

“Don't sweat it, dude. It'll be fun!” said Cannonball, Sunspot quick to agree with him. 

 

Kurt turned to Scott to get another opinion, but all the boy did was shrug and fix his sunglasses, giving into their whims. In this case it seemed majority ruled. Kurt could only glance nervously over his shoulder at the counselors by the dock, too busy yelling at kids trying to hurt each other to notice them. He kind of wished they would. 

 

The canoe glided seamlessly over the water, slipping easily into the narrow path swallowed by the shadows of trees overhead. They formed a thick canopy all the way down the river, barely letting any sunlight through as the boys sluggishly drifted onward. 

 

When they had gotten too far from the entry point, Kurt said, “Should we turn around?”

 

He couldn't help but feel a tiny bit betrayed when Scott happily replied, “Nah, let's keep going. This is pretty cool.”

 

Before he could retort, Sunspot huffed and reached over to push at his shoulder, “Chill out. If Cyclops here can get into it, why can't you?”

 

“ _ Cyclops? _ ”

 

Kurt turned to Scott, finding him shooting a half-baked glare to Sunspot who shrugged and smiled. Well… he assumed it was a glare, it was hard to tell with those glasses on. 

 

“I thought I told you guys to stop calling me that.”

 

Cannonball piped up, “Everyone gets a nickname, man. It's either Cyclops or Four Eyes, take your pick.”

 

Scott neglected to say anything more, his mouth zipped into a thin line as the boat drifted on. Eventually, they could no longer see the lake, the path ahead of them and behind looking almost identical. Kurt finally managed to calm down somewhat, the sounds of the birds chirping overhead and the gentle trickle of flowing water enough to sooth his worried mind. If the other boys could talk and joke around without care, he supposed he could too. That is, until he heard the faint sound of music, getting louder and louder the further they went. 

 

They all exchanged uneasy glances, tilting their ears towards it. It sounded like an old radio blasting  _ ACDC _ , accompanied by a few voices that laughed occasionally, just beyond a few bushes. They probably looked like a bunch of raccoons caught in spotlights as they finally came into view, frozen in place in the slowly encroaching canoe as it drifted by two young men settled in lawn chairs on the river's edge. 

 

One was a blond man sipping out of a bottle, wide eyes glued to the campers, whereas the other was… Peter? The silver-haired counselor and his companion studied the sight in front of them, one turning down the radio as the other put down his bottle, mouths slightly agape. 

 

When the boys got far enough, Peter shouted and waved them over, “Whoa! Hey, get your butts over here!”

 

They had no choice but to comply. Cannonball paddled the boat to the bank, the sound of wet wood being scratched by pebbles and twigs sharp enough to make the boys wince once they were safely settled on shore. It took every ounce of willpower to get out and walk back towards the men, little prisoners awaiting their fate from guards. Or, at the very least that's what they expected. No one, especially Kurt, was prepared when Peter took one look at them, hands on his hips, and started snickering. 

 

“Geez, guys, you just had to find our hiding spot, didn't you?” He laughed, walking towards them. 

 

The blond man behind just blinked and returned to nursing his drink, cranking the radio back up to a fairly loud volume. The four boys shot confused glances at one another, sheepishly trailing behind the man who gestured for them to follow as he headed back.

 

Peter plopped into his seat with a content sigh, reaching into the cooler by his chair. He took out two bottles and offered them to the teens. Sunspot and Cannonball were quick to grab them and study the label, twisting off the caps to take a swig. When Peter took out two more, Scott followed suit, leaving Kurt to grab the last one. 

 

Before his fingers could touch the cold glass, Peter turned his grip firm on the bottle and said with a smirk, “Wait a sec… I remember you, long time no see, huh?”

 

Kurt smiled shyly and took the offered beverage, happy to discover it was just cola. The group of teens either took a seat on the ground or leaned against trees, taking sips while watching the men out of the corners of their eyes. Weren't they going to say something? You'd think a couple of counselors would be more concerned when they found campers in places they weren't supposed to be.

 

That thought must've finally hit them, since the blond spoke up, “Would anyone care to explain why you're here?”

 

The teens avoided all eye contact and played around with their drinks, prompting Peter to say, “Ooh, looks like you scared them, Bobby.”

 

“Yeah, I know, I'm one scary son-of-a-bitch. Come on, Cannonball, you ain't gonna confess to your crimes?”

 

Cannonball chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck. “We were just messing around. Besides, if we weren't supposed to be here, shouldn't there have been a sign or something?”

 

The men snickered, they couldn't deny that fact was true. Then again, it's not like they truly cared about the antics the kids got up to, as long as they didn't hurt themselves. 

 

“Alright, alright. We won't nark on you guys as long as you keep our little hangout spot a secret, got it?” Peter said as authoritatively as possible. The boys nodded vigorously, whereas Bobby started laughing. 

 

“Oh, what's so damn funny? You got something to say?”

 

Bobby, like a schoolboy in sexual education, giggled, “I can't take you seriously when you talk like that.”

 

“Dick.”

 

“Loser.”

 

“Now don't you go and undermine my authority in front of these kids, Iceman.”

 

“I'll do whatever the hell I want, Silver!” He turned to the nearest boy and damn near yelled, “Wanna know something funny? Peter's middle name is-”

 

Peter sprang up and put Bobby into a headlock, which the blond didn't seem to mind considering he was still laughing. 

 

“Bro, unless you want me to show everyone that photo I have of you sleeping in your tighty-whities, I suggest you shut the hell up.”

 

Bobby chuckled but gave in all the same, his chair falling back with him in it once Peter let him go. That apparently wasn't enough to get him to shut up, seeing as he was still giggling in the dirt. Laughter seemed like a contagious disease today, because the second one boy snorted, they all gave in to it. 

 

Kurt had to slap a hand over his mouth as he laughed, the bubbles from his soda threatening to push hiccups out of his mouth. However, it began to die down once he noticed Peter staring at him. He had that same lost, dreamy look on his face from before, but music didn't seem to be the cause of it. 

 

Whatever it was, he snapped out of it and whipped his head over to Bobby who had gotten back up, covered in dirt with pine needles in his hair. Peter snorted, laughing so hard there were tears at the corner of his eyes. 

 

~

 

The fun couldn't last forever, seeing as they had to return eventually. So, it was with heavy hearts and empty bottles that the boys made their way back to camp. Peter and Bobby offered to provide a distraction while the campers paddled back to rejoin the others just as they were getting out. It wasn't entirely necessary since two kids decided to battle each other pirate style in the middle of the lake, so the boys sneaking in went by unnoticed. 

 

Once they reached the dock and left the canoe in its designated spot, they slipped in with the others as if nothing had occurred at all. Quite frankly, they could've ditched entirely and no one would've said a thing, because those two kids on the lake were really going at each other in front of their audience. 

 

One counselor, Sean, cupped his hands and shouted, “Seriously guys! You need to get over here, right now!” 

 

The other, Kitty, groaned under her breath, “God… this is the third time they've done this…”

 

Sean offered to go out onto the water and fish the dueling duo out himself, while Kitty would escort the others away from the scene and onto something else. 

 

Eventually, Kurt found himself in a large cabin with big windows, hosting a small art class for the kids to invest some of their creativity into. Luckily, everyone's activities rotated, so his peers for the time being were much more calm and collected. He was fairly pleased to find Jean present in the room, waving him over and into the empty seat next to her. 

 

Once the room was filled up, a cheery woman with platinum hair bounced in and stood in front of everyone. 

 

“Good morning, kiddos! You all ready to get artsy?” She asked as she clasped her hands together, earning nods and hums of agreement from her students. “Awesome! Today's a special day because we finally got our new pottery wheels!”

 

She gestured to the back of the room where a gaggle of the devices resided, shiny, new, and strange. Kurt had never seen one before, but he could study the wheel in closer detail since a couple were deposited on the large table he was at, one for each pair of kids. 

 

Confusion began to set in once everyone began moving about, collecting tubs of clay and plugging in the machines as sleeves were rolled up above elbows. That feeling soon melted into dread when they began to spin the squishy mineral on the wheels, splattering clay and water around the room like beige fireworks. 

 

Kurt watched Jean carefully set up her station, but halfway through, she stopped and turned to him. 

 

“What's the matter?”

 

“Uhh…” He looked down at his right hand, slowly lifting it up into view with a solemn look. 

 

Jean could only offer a sympathetic (or perhaps it was a pitiful) smile. She raised her hand to wave over the teacher, whispering into her ear once she was close enough. Too bad for her the woman was loud. 

 

“Aww, Kurt, you don't want to participate?”

 

Now everyone was looking in his direction, their gazes forcing a blush across his cheeks as bright as wildfire. He could only squeak back, “I can't  _ Frau _ Blaire… I can't get my hand wet.” 

 

She looked around the room, concentrating on little things until she ultimately clicked her tongue in disappointment. 

 

“I don't really have anything else prepared… do you wanna sit this one out then?”

 

“Yes, please…” 

 

So, while everyone else got to enjoy making messy pots and little statues, Kurt had the pleasure of sitting nearby, the ever constant burn of shame filling him up whenever he caught someone looking in his direction. Well, there wasn't much he could do about it. He was honest when he said he couldn't get his right hand wet, the only protection he had was the waterproof glove practically sewed into his skin. Besides, three large digits just weren't as nimble as five. 

 

Kurt settled on studying Jean, her hands working steadily to form a finely shaped vase on the spinning table. The longer he looked, however, the more he began to notice little details essentially imperceptible to the naked eye. 

 

She had fine burn marks across the back of her hands, traveling slowly up her forearms. If he looked close enough, he could see tiny scars along her neck and face. A small flash of Jubilee came to mind, seeing as the scars she carried were identical, but much larger, more prominent on her legs than anywhere else. It was safe to jump to the conclusion both girls ended up getting hurt by the same thing… but what exactly? 

 

The redhead shot her eyes over to him, nearly forcing a yelp out of his lungs. She murmured, barely audible over the hum of pottery wheels, “Don't ask.”

 

“E-excuse me?”

 

“I know what you're looking at. So don't ask. It's none of your business.”

 

Any arguments quickly died in his mouth, her stare was enough to murder them before she turned back to her work. It was only after a few moments had passed in silence that Kurt realized something: Jean knows things. The girl had an uncanny knowledge of anything and  _ everything _ pertaining to the camp, that much he knew after observing her these past few days. The counselors turned to her when they needed something done, or the other campers went to her when they required her assistance. It wouldn't hurt to ask her a question. 

 

Kurt had to summon a wave of courage just to say, “Can I ask you something?”

 

She didn't bother to look at him as she said, “What did I just say?”

 

“ _ Nein _ , it isn't that. It's something else.”

 

She slowed down to peer over at him, skeptical eyes slowly melting into something softer and less intimidating.  “Alright… what is it?”

 

“Do you know of anyone named Raven? A counselor or something?”

 

“Hmm…” Her prolonged pause had him holding his breath. “To be completely honest with you, I can't say that I do.”

 

Damn, there went that plan. He sighed through his nose, leaning back till he hit the wall behind him. He didn't notice the way she was watching him, face contorted in thought. 

 

“...What's her last name?” Jean asked. 

 

“Huh?”

 

“Raven. What's her last name?”

 

“It's, uh, it's Darkhölme.”

 

The girl's eyes shot open in surprise. She leaned in closer to him, completely neglecting her work as she whispered, “I think you might be looking for the wrong person. The only one here with that last name is  _ Rogue _ .”

 

He looked at her in confusion, so she continued, “She's a counselor here, but I haven't seen her at all. You could ask Kitty, she might know where she is.”

 

The dam clogging his mind had finally cracked enough to let some water trickle through. While Kurt offered her a ‘ _ danke _ ’ and let her return to work, the wheels in head could get back to turning.

 

He knew to be skeptical about her name on the camp website, seeing as that  _ R _ . in  _ R _ .  _ Darkhölme _ actually stood for Rogue, not Raven. But that answer let multiple new questions form: if Raven wasn't here, then why was this address listed on the card with her name on it? Was Rogue her real name, and Raven just a mistake or a nickname? Or was she a relative? 

 

Close one door, open another, he supposed. At least this was a start in the right direction, all he had to do now was find Rogue, and then he could finally get some answers. 

 

~

 

Answers were like butterflies, both beautiful and welcome anytime, but in reality, hard to catch and easy to lose. Given the chance, they'd slip away at any opportunity, never to be seen again. 

 

The one person he could get some information from was currently missing in action. Lunchtime was nearing the end of its hour, so half the campers stayed inside the Mess Hall to finish while the rest goofed around outside until it was time for their next activity. A few of the counselors were present to supervise and eat their meals, all except Kitty, it seemed. No wonder people called her  _ Shadow Cat _ , she just seemed to phase through walls and disappear at the drop of a pin. 

 

Kurt didn't have much time to find her, and even as he searched over the entirety of the camp, leaving no stone unturned, she remained hidden. Hope began to dwindle, not that this was his one and only chance to ask her, but he had reached his limit in terms of patience. He waited this long just for a few measly answers, he didn't want to keep waiting just because Kitty was playing hide-and-seek. 

 

“Hey,  _ psst _ ! Little dude, over here!” 

 

Kurt turned stock still and looked around for the source of the voice, which turned out to be Bobby standing by himself against a cabin, near the edge of the woods. He looked around, and upon discovering that no one else was present and Bobby was referring to him, he carefully walked towards  the counselor. 

 

“What're you up to, man?” he chirped, looking over at the teen with a sunny grin, “Gonna go have another adventure with your cronies?”

 

Kurt stuttered, “I, uh, no. I was just looking for someone.”

 

“I hope it ain't Peter, ‘cause he's busy making a run to the store.”

 

“No… actually, have you seen Kitty? I need to ask her something.”

 

Bobby closed his eyes and hummed, tapping a finger on his chin. “I think she's in the girls’ showers. She fell in the lake after a few kids decided to play  _ Creature from the Black Lagoon.  _ Not gonna lie, it was pretty funny.”

 

When Kurt’s face fell, he quickly added, “What did you need from her?”

 

“I need to find Rogue and Jean told me Kitty knew where she was.”

 

Bobby got a look on his face that seemed out of place for him - something serious, lightly tinged with sadness. 

 

“I hate to break it to you, kid, but Rogue isn't here. She left a while ago and she won't be back till next month.”

 

Kurt could practically hear the delicate glass frame of his hope shatter. Bobby was quick to try and lighten the mood with a few jokes, but every word fell on deaf ears. The boy only looked up when he asked, “Random question, but how old are you?”

 

“Uhh… I'm 16, why? 

 

The man shrugged and picked at the dirt under his nails. “Peter wanted to know. I don't know why he wanted to know, but he mentioned something about it earlier and I just remembered.”

 

Why would Peter want to know that? He didn't get the chance to ask because Bobby pushed off of the cabin he was leaning against, and strolled off down the dirt path, shooting a quick wave over his shoulder. Kurt watched him leave, then decided to ditch the scene himself, feet carrying him in the opposite direction towards the woods. 

 

Okay, so… the one person he needed to find wasn't here. It was good he finally got an answer about her whereabouts, but it was a cruel twist of fate that he'd have to wait out the rest of the month just to see her. In the meantime, he supposed he could focus on what Bobby said. Why on earth would Peter ask about his age?

 

He tried to pick an idea as to why in his jumbled mind, but before he could grab one, he heard rustling and stomping coming from within the woods. He leaned in to listen when two kids rushed at him, running by in a panic. 

 

“Get outta here, man! Phoenix is on the hunt!” One yelled, nearly tripping over their feet. 

 

After they vanished from view, Kurt heard more rustling, so he opted to hide behind a tree. Carefully peeking around it, he could see two people in the distance, moving closer. He immediately recognized Jubilee, but it took him a second to identify the other as Jean. She looked frantic and angry, a total shift from her usual calm demeanor. 

 

Jubilee put a hand on her shoulder and said something that Kurt could barely make out, “You can't keep doing this, Jean.” 

 

The other girl snapped back, brushing down locks of fiery red hair, “They won't stop coming over here even though I keep telling them not to and it's really getting on my nerves!” 

 

Jubilee let her hand drop down to her side to scratch at the rough, patchy skin on her thigh, and when Jean noticed, the redhead dropped her head and looked away. 

 

“... I'm sorry…” she said after a moment had passed. 

 

Jubilee pulled her into a hug and began directing her out of the woods. “Don't sweat it. Let's just go find the boys, okay?”

 

Kurt slowly backed away before breaking into a run, stopping to catch his breath behind a cabin. If Jean was mad now, she'd be ballistic if she knew he was eavesdropping. 

 

A cool breeze rolled by that was more than appreciated, Kurt sighing as it passed and ruffled his hair. Today was a long day, and it wasn't even over yet. Everything going on with Rogue, Peter, and Jean, it was all starting to be too much for him to process. There were so many questions growing inside his head, they began to crack his skull and leak out, getting clogged in the process. 

 

A little part of him wondered if he should've stayed home. Maybe his parents would've answered his inquiries if he just asked. Or… maybe they'd get upset with him. Either way, it seemed like the better choice because at least at home, there'd always be someone there to help, even if they didn't have all the answers. 

 

Although, when he heard the distinct voices of his friends calling out his name, he smiled. Even if he was just running around in circles here, at least he managed to meet some wonderful people that made this whole experience worth the trouble. As he got up and went over to meet them, immediately being tackled into a tight hug by Jubilee, that thought was cemented in. Maybe it would all be worth it in the end. 

 

~

 

Night fell over the camp, a majority of its inhabitants knocked out cold, all except a certain pair of counselors who refused to obey the law of the land, which was: be in bed by 10 pm. 

 

It was around midnight, and the duo were by the river in their usual hiding spot, illuminated by a few lanterns, the soft sound of music battling the haunting whisper of the woods. Peter was busy regaling his friend with today's trip to the convenience store, which involved a couple of firecrackers and a short woman who chased him around with a broom. 

 

They let out a few laughs, and when it died down, Bobby piped up, “Oh, yeah, I just remembered something. I ran into your little buddy earlier today.”

 

“What about him?” Peter didn't bother looking in his direction, nonchalantly picking at the lint on his jeans. 

 

“I don't know, you said you wondered how old he was. Just thought you'd like to know.”

 

The man nearly snapped his neck turning in the other's direction and asked much too loudly, “How old is he?”

 

“ _ Pfft,  _ why you wanna know that for? He's obviously not old enough to drink if you were looking for someone else to pick up the beers, you know.”

 

“I know that, man, I'm not stupid.”

 

“Then what is it?”

 

Peter fell silent, a first for him. He looked in all directions but Bobby’s, clearing his throat a few times but never speaking a word. Bobby cocked his head and leaned in closer to his friend, finding the lightest dusting of blush across his cheeks. 

 

He whispered, “What's going on, Silver? You're scaring the shit outta me.”

 

“It's nothing. Just forget about it, seriously.”

 

Bobby shrugged, and after a minute had passed, he spoke up, “He said he's 16.”

 

He nearly fell out of his seat when Peter shot up and started pacing around, digging his hands in his hair and mumbling words too fast to make out. 

 

“Holy crap, dude!” Bobby hissed, “What's your problem, you weirdo?”

  
Peter looked at him with puppy eyes. “I'm screwed, Iceman! I'm royally fucking  _ screwed _ !”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: this chapter and the previous have had some minor revisions, so if anyone thinks something else needs to be fixed, please don't hesitate to tell me


	4. Night of the Nightcrawler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well well well. It seems as if this chapter is late to the party. I apologize for the small impromptu hiatus, but unfortunately for me, a lot came up. First off, I had to help my sister move back home, and I ended up tearing a ligament and pinching a nerve in my hand. Two, I had "work", and by that I mean my odd job at the farmer's market. It was a little festival, but it was great because we sold out and I got interviewed for the local news! But I digress, here is the latest installment, and I hope you all enjoy!

How did Kurt find himself here? 

 

He was currently covered in dirt - filthy from head to toe - barefoot, in his pajamas, and was waiting inside the office of Mr. Xavier. Actually, it was Professor Xavier, but that wasn't important at the moment. What was important was what was going to happen to him? 

 

If he had to guess where this started, it would have been a few days ago. Around a campfire by the lake. 

 

Kurt had been on edge from the moment someone said, “Hey, let's tell scary stories!” That made his stomach form into a nice knot, getting tighter and tighter through each and every tale. By the time Scott raised his hand, Kurt was on the verge of breaking his fingers from how hard he was gripping onto the log he was sitting on. Thankfully, Jubilee offered some comfort by resting her hand over his. He didn't catch the look of content that came with it, a perfect parallel of a cat served a saucer of fresh cream. 

 

Scott had delved into a tale he swore was true, about his brother's friend and his trip down south that nearly ended with him being dragged off by some horrifying creature. It was cliched at best, basically a paint-by-numbers sort of story, all the ingredients there for him to put together. It made Kurt’s skin crawl just the same, what could he say? He was on edge. 

 

First, there was his friend's lone car, driving down a pitch black road in the middle of nowhere. Next, the car broke down without any explanation in front of a lonely field. For added flavor, a mysterious figure wielding a lantern emerged within the field, stalking closer. 

 

“When he saw this figure, he guessed it was probably a rancher or something coming to see all the commotion, so he waved to them. Instead of a response, the figure  _ slowly _ raised the lantern it was holding… and  _ smashed _ it at its feet, immediately being engulfed by flames!”

 

Kurt peered at Scott as he said this with an exaggerated boom to his voice. It did little to stir any emotions within the listeners, they just giggled at his antics or yawned. Lucky for the storyteller, Jean was courteous enough to pay attention and pretend she was interested. 

 

“Next thing he knew, the thing was running at him, lit up like the fourth of July! He got back in the car as fast as he could, struggling to start the car back up, but it refused. Just as the creature was about to reach him-”

 

“ _ Boo! _ ”

 

Kurt yelped and nearly jumped out of his skin when someone whispered in his ear, drawing all attention in his direction. He expected to be face to face with some horrible murderer about to stab him just for fun, but was surprised to find… Peter. Well, in terms of surprises, this was pretty pleasant, especially in comparison to who it could've been. 

 

The man snickered, taking a seat next to his victim on the right, seeing as his left was occupied by Jubilee, who was giving him the stink eye. 

 

“Sorry, kid, I just couldn't resist.” He offered, and Kurt was kind enough to take it, even though his heart was still stuttering. 

 

Scott cleared his throat, asking flatly, “Can I get back to my story?”

 

“Uh, yeah, man. Sorry.”

 

So, the teen continued on with his story, unaware of the fact Peter now held Kurt's complete attention. The counselor was whispering a few jokes at Scott's expense, and Kurt had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep him from snorting. The things being said may have been terrible - in more ways than one - but they were too funny to ignore. 

 

“So, what do you think he's hiding under those glasses? Think he's got a bug eye or something?”

 

Peter proceeded to bug out his own eyes, waggling his eyebrows, and Kurt lost it. He let out a sharp laugh, just as Scott ended his story, so his reaction was obviously inappropriate.

 

The counselor who was already present, a young woman named Megan, glared in their direction and opened her mouth to give Peter a good tongue lashing, but the man was quick enough to interject. 

 

“Alright! So, since I screwed up story time - my apologies to Scotty, by the way - how about I give you all a proper horror story, hm?”

 

Everyone looked around, all seeming to agree without opening their mouths. A strange way to communicate, but effective. 

 

“Okay, Peter,” Megan groaned, “But I swear, if it's the story about your trip to that convenience store again-”

 

“That wasn't a horror story, that actually happened.”

 

“Oh my god, gross.”

 

The man cleared his throat and straightened his back, leaning in closer to the fire to give him a more devilish appearance. 

 

“Buckle up, kiddos, ‘cause I have one hell of a story for you. This one's called ‘ _ Milk White _ .’”

 

A few people scoffed at the name, but too bad for them Peter's tale scared the hell out of everyone. 

 

He painted a scene of a plain place up north, boring and covered in snow. A typical working town whose only strange point of interest happened to be an abandoned asylum. All the tastes of basic horror movies, but the way Peter worded it, he made it seem so vivid and true. Even Scott was invested in it, despite being a bit sour for having his thunder stolen. 

 

According to the story's protagonist, legend said that the asylum was home to a misfortunate albino boy called Milk White, who was forced to live in the basement. He had no friends, so he would sneak out at night and steal children. 

 

“See, Milk White would take these poor kids all the way back to the asylum and  _ kill _ them so they couldn't leave. The only way to avoid him was to go to sleep. He couldn't take you if you were sleeping. Which was the kind of crap your parents tell you so you'll go to bed.”

 

“But what about the kids?” Someone piped up. 

 

“Don't worry, I'm getting to that.”

 

The protagonist and his friend were challenged by another boy to visit the asylum and find out if the legend was true, Peter explained. All three went in the middle of a frosty night, armed only with flashlights. The building was broken down and dirty, darkness living in every corner, the perfect setting built upon the foundation of words. 

 

Kurt felt his heart race when the boys finally found the basement and the boy who challenged them began to joke around, shaking the locked door handle. That is, until they heard creaking from the basement stairs. 

 

“They all hid around the corner of the wall and listened closely, the sound of footsteps slowly coming up those old stairs. Then… the door began to rattle, shaking until the handle turned and it squeaked open.”

 

A few people hunched up their shoulders, owlishly looking at Peter like children. 

 

“And then what happened?”

 

Peter smiled at the one who asked, muttering just loud enough to hear over the crackling fire, “A silhouette walked out and the kids nearly had a heart attack. There he was - Milk White. Except, his skin wasn't white like it was in the legend, it was actually  _ blood red _ , from head to toe. A dripping red creature with a mouthful of sharp teeth that grinned.

 

“One of the boys got so scared, he accidentally dropped his flashlight. Milk White heard it, and turned to them, shuffling in their direction, a horrible squeal coming from his mouth. They tried to run, but they couldn't get away fast enough. So… the oldest boy got his flashlight and knocked the others over the head, both out cold.”

 

“What he do that for?”

 

“Remember what I said earlier about the legend? Milk White can't get you while you're sleeping.”

 

According to Peter, when the boys woke up, covered in a thin layer of frost, it was morning and both Milk White and the eldest were nowhere to be found. Everyone clung onto their seats or each other by the time the story concluded, eyes flickering between the campfire or the dark woods all around. What didn't help was the goofy grin Peter was sporting. A man shouldn't look so pleased after describing a bunch of kids being attacked by a bloody monster.

 

Megan, rigid and wide-eyed, clapped her hands and declared it was about time everyone went to their own cabins. Most of the kids were more than happy to get to the comfort and safety of their beds. Kurt, oddly enough, was compelled to stay, given the fact Peter looked at him like he had a word stuck on the tip of his tongue that he just couldn't reach. 

 

“Peter? Is something on your mind?”

 

The man chewed on his lip, his brows furrowed as he voiced his thoughts, “I just had an idea… since we all love scary stories so much, how about we have a horror movie night?”

 

Kurt's face dropped. He could barely handle  _ this _ , he'd surely perish having to be subjected to chainsaw wielding psychopaths and fake blood splatters. 

 

Peter took note of his expression and quickly added, “Hey, don't worry, dude. It's not like I'm gonna pick a slasher for you guys, I think I'd get my ass canned if I did. Probably just a few classics, like  _ Psycho _ or some shit. Besides,” He wrapped an arm around the teen’s shoulder and whispered, “I'm gonna be there the entire time, so you don't have to worry about anything, okay?”

 

Kurt peered up at him and Peter stared back, his expression shifting from a friendly calm to a dazy half-smile to realization. He quickly pushed away from the boy, putting distance between them. Kurt felt a strange stutter in his chest, something he chalked up to being a byproduct of the night's excitement. 

 

Neither were aware of the fact they were being watched by a certain girl, who glared in Peter's direction, tapping manicured nails against her crossed arms in an aggressive rhythm. 

 

~

 

Give a man the opportunity to frighten a bunch of kids through the power of cinematic media, and he'll take it and run. Almost literally in Peter's case. It had taken some convincing, but after a few days filled with negotiation and maybe a little begging, Peter finally got Xavier to agree to a horror movie night, on the condition the films were appropriate. 

 

On one hand, Kurt - along with everyone else - was happy to be free of the usual camp rut, and enjoy a mostly movie filled day. On the other, however, he wished it didn't have to be horror themed. He would've taken anything, honestly, even those annoying kid-exclusive cartoons. He may have hated them, but growing up with a little sister, it was nothing he couldn't handle. Unfortunately, Kurt was in the minority in that regard, so horror movies it was. 

 

The sky had a yellow tint to it, like a fresh glass of lemonade complete with faint, cloudy ice cubes. The sweet electricity in the air was amplified by the small popcorn machine gotten out for the occasion, its noisy symphony accompanied by the rustling of candy wrappers. Logs were rolled out into rows upon rows, each seat filled with excited teens ready for the adrenaline rush only frightening films could provide. The rest of the people who couldn't fit, including a few of the counselors and even Mr. Xavier (although, Kurt was told everyone called him the Professor), sat on the sidelines, blankets their only protection from the bugs and grass below. 

 

It would've been fun and invigorating if it weren't for the fact Kurt nearly cracked a tooth from clenching his jaw so tightly. The only reason he didn't run back to his cabin was the fact Jubilee was in the middle of telling him a story. Well… that and the fact he was waiting for a certain young man whose tongue was just as silver as his hair. Peter promised to be a safeguard for the evening, and Kurt sure as hell was going to hold him to that. 

 

Oddly enough, the man in question was nowhere to be found. Considering this whole shebang was his idea, it was a little strange how the other counselors were busy putting up the screen or setting up the projector, some even telling kids to keep their hands to themselves, and yet the mastermind behind all this wasn't a part of it. 

 

“So, Kurt!” Jubilee chirped, leaning on her elbows while she shot her friend a cheeky smile, “I'm a little curious about something.”

 

The boy cocked his head and mumbled, “About what exactly?”

 

Despite her bubbly behavior, something seemed off by the way she looked down at her lap and chewed on her lip. “I know this is personal and all, but… have you ever been in a relationship?”

 

Just as he opened his mouth to respond, her eyes wide in anticipation, fate decided to play a cruel trick when Kurt’s right hand began to spasm painfully. It was a common occurrence, something that happened once every few days or so, but it was still painful nonetheless. He hissed and clutched his hand to his chest, digging the fingers of his good hand into the tight muscles to try and  rub away the ache. 

 

Kurt honestly didn't expect Jubilee to carefully pull the appendage into her own soft palms, taking over the task for him. He was too awed by this sincere gesture to notice Scott and Jean plopping down in the space next to him. He could feel Scott peek over his shoulder, but the boy didn't breathe a word, so neither did he. 

 

After a minute passed, Kurt gathered up enough courage to pull himself away from Jubilee’s attentive grasp, a polite smile on his face as he said, “I'm feeling much better now, thank you.” 

 

She seemed to pout, but let him go all the same. When Peter and Bobby strolled on site, Kurt focused immediately on them the second he heard their collective laughter. This only twisted Jubilee’s usually sweet expression into something utterly sour. 

 

Peter placed a laptop down onto the projector, hooking it up while tapping his fingers across the keys in succession. Within seconds, a film began to play and he turned to the audience with his hands on his hips. 

 

“Alright, guys!” He shouted, “The movie's gonna start now, so please… shut the hell up.” 

 

“Ugh, Peter! Watch your language!”

 

“What? I said please.” 

 

The man and his snickering companion made their way towards the back, ignoring the glare from one of the counselors. Bobby picked an empty spot in front of Kurt, and when Peter noticed the boy, he shot him a friendly smile, which quickly melted into a nervous frown. It was an odd thing to behold, the usually cheery and goofy counselor adopted the persona of a child in timeout, and the way Peter looked down and hunched his shoulders only added to that description. 

 

Undeniably strange, but Kurt would have to focus on it later, because the loud blare of music that echoed from the speakers startled everyone into facing forward,  _ The Birds _ popping up on screen. He'd never seen this movie before, so even if he was wary, he was still curious. 

 

It seemed simple enough, the only tense things happened to be birds swooping down at the characters on screen. Not that it didn't have its fair share of excitement, but from what Kurt expected, it was fairly tame, enough to let him join in the idle chatter of his friends. 

 

That is, until the scene in which the teacher was found, her corpse in the dirt in front of a house, covered in feathers and her own blood. Kurt grimaced at the sight. Quite frankly, he didn't need to develop an inane fear of blue jays and robins, so he opted to get up and hang out for a moment near the back, far away from the action. Scott seemed to have the same idea, since he volunteered to go along with him. 

 

Once they were near a few trees, standing dead still against the fading sky, Scott whispered, “What's going on?”

 

Kurt just shook his head and took a deep breath as he said, “It's nothing. The movie just made me feel a little sick, is all.” 

 

“Well, damn, that was a good opportunity for you to cuddle up with Jubilee.”

 

Kurt shot his eyes up and stared at him blankly. He turned his head towards the girls, which only succeeded in forming a nervous ripple through his stomach, because they watched him and whispered, no better than gossiping schoolgirls. 

 

“...Why would I do that?” 

 

Scott shot him an incredulous look, leaning in to deadpan, “You're joking, right?” When Kurt gave him nothing more than a confused tilt of the head, he continued, “Oh, wait, you're serious.” 

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

According to Scott, when a morbid scene occurred in a film, that was the moment when couples were supposed to flirt and cuddle together. He was planning on doing so with Jean, but he was more worried about Kurt. While Kurt appreciated the concern, he was a bit confused about the implications. Was he supposed to do those sorts of things with Jubilee? 

 

He got his answer when Scott spoke up once more, “Seriously, man, she's been giving you goo-goo eyes this whole time. I thought you would've gotten the hint.” 

 

The boy patted his friend on the back and proceeded to return to his seat, only stopping to look over his shoulder when he noticed Kurt wasn't following behind. 

 

“You coming?” Scott asked. 

 

Kurt gave him a half-baked smile, his voice cracking slightly as he said, “In a moment, go ahead without me.” 

 

Scott did as he was told, oblivious to the way Kurt lowered his head and backed away. Quite frankly, it was easier to sneak past the trees than it was to confront his friends, assumptions from either side should he sit down. At least the bushes wouldn't expect anything out of him.

 

Kurt managed to find himself in the shadows of local flora, the music from the movie muted but constant in its intensity. He wasn't hiding per se, he was simply catching his breath and clearing his mind in a place where his thoughts couldn't be contaminated. 

 

The dominant creature chewing on his mind was molded out of Scott's words, digging deep into his brain tissue, until all he could think about was Jubilee. What was he supposed to do? Cuddle up with her? Stare at her lovingly? They… they didn't expect him to kiss her, right? He treasured his friends, but that was something he couldn't bring himself to do. Not with her, not with anyone. 

 

Kurt felt a yelp bubble in his throat when he noticed a dark silhouette, stark against the tree it was set against. Whoever it was jumped too, cursing under their breath until they stepped close enough to be seen in the faint light. 

 

“Oh… What are you doing over here, Peter?” Kurt said, a soft breath flowing out of his lungs when he realized who it was. He didn't even notice Peter had left any time during the movie. 

 

The man in question looked at him with a strange intensity in his eye that Kurt couldn't place. His voice was low and soft, “Just, uh… I'm just trying to clear my head, is all. Shouldn't you be over there with your little girlfriend? You're missing the movie.” 

 

The boy chuckled, void of any genuine humor, “ _ Nein _ . She isn't my girlfriend. Besides, seeing blood and dead bodies made me feel sick.”

 

“Oooh, in that case, you're really not gonna like what movie I got next.” 

 

“Which is?”

 

“ _ Silence of the Lambs. _ ” 

 

Kurt cocked his head while the other laughed to himself. He had heard that name before, but never had the chance to watch it. Quite frankly, it sounded like a religious movie, so how bad could it possibly be? 

 

~

 

It was bad, it was so bad. Kurt couldn't curl in any closer on himself to block out this crude, dark freak-show of a film. He should've stayed in the cabin, hell, he should've stayed home. Anything would be better than looking into Hannibal Lecter’s haunting eyes. 

 

After spending Lord knows how long out of sight, when they came back, somehow both of their seats managed to get filled up, despite both their friends trying to get the intruders to leave, but to no avail. Peter didn't mind, in fact, he seemed anxiously elated, if that made any sense. He took off his jacket and made a makeshift blanket for them to sit on, on the outskirts of the area besides all the others who didn't get a seat. Kurt tried to protest, it didn't seem fair to get his jacket dirty, but Peter said time and time again that it was fine because he needed to wash it anyway. 

 

Kurt felt any other words of protest dry up and crack in his mouth after sitting through a good portion of the movie. How could Peter be so fine with this? All he did was nonchalantly lean back on his hands and laugh whenever Kurt grimaced. 

 

At some point, he had had enough, and immediately turned back to look at his friends. Scott and Jean weren't even looking at the screen, they were too busy staring at each other. Jubilee, meanwhile, looked like a grumpy toddler, arms crossed with a pout on her lips. When she looked over at him, Kurt quickly turned his head back and averted his eyes upward.

 

The stars decided to make their entrance, coming in warm and bright as the night finally swallowed the last remnants of the day. They shimmered far above, countless little pearls swimming in the massive cosmic ocean dangling right above their heads. He was tempted to reach a hand out to touch them, but all he would get was a handful of air and strange looks, so he kept his hands to himself. 

 

A loud noise came from the speakers and snapped Kurt back to reality. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, their intense eyes never blinking or else they'd miss the action. However, Peter wasn't. While he did have a small percentage of that intensity in his gaze, it wasn't the screen he was staring at. 

 

“...Peter?” Kurt whispered, “What are you looking at?” 

 

Peter's eyes flickered from the boy's own pair to his mouth and back, his dreamy daze melting into something harsh, his eyebrows knitting together tightly as he faced forward. 

 

Kurt opened his mouth to say something else, but it mutated into a gasp when Hannibal Lecter returned to the center of the screen. The man was beating a policeman to death, his face blood splattered and contorted into an orgasmic smile, as if this  was his opus. Much thought wasn't put into his actions, seeing as Kurt was moving on instinct when he pressed his head against Peter's shoulder, anything to hide from that terror. 

 

The second the moment passed, Peter nudged the boy away and shot up. No words came from his tightly pressed lips as he stormed off, hands shoved into his pockets and head bowed. 

 

Kurt stared off in his direction, switching from confusion to sadness then shame, all the colors of a melancholy rainbow. He could feel the eyes of curious kids and counselors peer in his direction, crushing him like paper under their heavy gazes. Did he do something wrong? He must have, or maybe Peter just didn't like him being too close. 

 

Quite frankly, the reason lost its importance as his throat tightened, his muscles curling closer by the second. Kurt couldn't even bring himself to blink, his eyes watery and wide as he stood up. Before he could move, however, he noticed Peter's abandoned jacket right under his foot. 

 

It stared back up at him, the dull silver of the material reflecting in the screen's white light. He wanted to leave as quickly as possible, so he grabbed it and stuffed it under his arm, his feet doing what they did best: fleeing the scene. 

 

Someone called out to him, but they were ignored as he got further and further away, the rhythm of his steps increasing from a brisk walk to outright running. He didn't stop, even when he nearly tripped, he kept going, only slowing down enough to crash into his cabin and slam the door shut. 

 

The jacket was quickly dropped to the floor, Kurt’s hands were too preoccupied with digging into his hair. He could feel the tight jaws of some invisible monster crush him, the pressure enough to tighten his throat to the point of gasping for air. 

 

Peter was mad at him, he was sure of it. The man probably never wanted to see him again, and Kurt felt like all the blame could be pinned to him. To top it off, everyone stared, they all looked at him like the kids at school - the ones who loved to bully and talk trash. Were the people here going to do that too? He tried so hard, so very hard to fit in and maintain some semblance of normalcy in front of them all, especially his friends, but did that thin perception go up in flames?

 

Under his breath, he whispered a mantra of prayers, any prayer he could recall at that moment, even if all his words jumbled into an incomprehensible mess. He dropped to the floor, back against his bed, as he curled his knees to his chest. Kurt felt so pitiful at that moment because he wanted nothing more than to see his mother. 

 

His muscles began to loosen their deadly grip on him, his body sluggishly uncoiling. It was funny how the mere idea of the woman who raised him was enough to calm him down, and yet the reason he was here was to find his birth mother, who was nothing more than a frustrating thought at this point.

 

Kurt wasn't in the mood to dig up anything regarding her, the only good idea he could grab was that of going to bed. Not a single care was given as he kicked off his shoes, stripped off his clothes and swapped them out for plain pajamas, and climbed under the covers. Whatever he had to face, he could always attend to it in the morning. 

 

~

 

_ “Come on, Kurt, hurry up! I'm not going to wait on you forever!” _

 

_ Kurt looked for the voice and found his little sister far ahead of him, hands on her hips. Although, she looked different; her hair was red, a small white streak running through it.  She pulled a silly face at him and ran off, her steps accompanied by a loud echo that bounced on the grey walls surrounding him. He carefully followed, calling out to her but she only moved faster and faster, going towards a bright light.  _

 

_ It burned his eyes and he tried to stop, but she was gobbled up by its intensity, and soon enough, so was he. He blinked, again and again, but that seemed to do nothing. All he could see was white, the muffled voices of people coming from all directions. They seemed to be yelling, the sounds of shoes on tiles and metal on metal tagging along for the ride, but to him, it sounded like water trapped in his ears.  _

 

_ He heard a woman scream, howling in miserable pain, the sound impossible to miss. The white walls holding him began to crumble, black cracks forming swiftly, painting a portrait that mimicked antique porcelain. It only got worse the more she cried, to the point the room was barely able to stay together. He heard a man's voice, saying something he couldn't understand, and then she screamed for a final time, a banshee wail shattering the expanse.  _

 

_ Kurt closed his eyes, but nothing happened. He expected to fall or feel air rush past him, but he felt nothing. When he opened his eyes, it took him a minute to recognize where he was. He was back in Germany.  _

 

_ Although, he didn't recognize this particular place. The street signs gave away the location, but this was somewhere he never recalled stepping foot. _

 

_ The sky was cloudy, a storm threatening the world with loud cracks of thunder. There were a few plain, stone buildings, surrounded by green grass and a few cows grazing in a nearby pasture. Everything had the fine scent of fresh dirt, cold and sweet and earthy beyond compare  _

 

_ He wasn't moving on his own accord, his feet seemed to be dragging themselves down a cobblestone path towards a church in the distance, looming over the land with an unholy shadow.  _

 

_ When he looked behind him, the world seemed to blur, greys mixing with blues and greens until it was nothing more than a child's finger painting. The land in front of him only seemed to twist and warp, the church somehow managing to stretch and bite at the sky with righteous fury, its ancient bell nothing more than an ominous ring above the clouds.  _

 

_ He finally stopped at the bottom of the steps leading up to the building, and at the top was a woman, her back facing him. She had blonde hair tied into a loose ponytail and a dirty overcoat, the back of her shoes caked in mud. That didn't faze him, he was more concerned about the fact she was crying.  _

 

_ Her shoulders shook with quiet sobs and sniffles, muttering words he couldn't make out, even as he stepped closer. It wasn't until he made it to the step behind her that he heard her speak clearly.  _

 

_ “I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… please forgive me…” _

 

_ He reached a hand out towards her, but the moment his flesh made contact, she faded away, her coat floating to the ground with a thick thud, nothing more than a pile of material than clothing. He grazed it with his fingertips and jumped back when the coat began to move, something underneath alive and kicking.  _

 

_ Kurt swallowed down the lump forming in his throat and carefully pinched the edge of it, yanking it away. Underneath was a bundle, something small and swaddled in an old blanket, a small opening revealing a tiny face. It was a baby.  _

 

_ He leaned over to get a better look when little hands pushed out towards him, pudgy fingers the size of beans trying to grab onto something. The left hand was perfectly healthy looking, whereas the other… it was pink, swollen, and deformed. He could only count three disfigured digits.  _

 

_ He moved to stand up and run, but by some unnatural means, he ended up on his knees, the tip of his finger held tightly by the ugly, little appendage. He tried to pull away, but the infant's grip was like a snare, only getting tighter the more he fought.  _

 

_ The church doors cracked, the ancient wood creaking in misery as they opened up to nothing more than an empty, black expanse. Kurt felt his heart drop to his stomach when a cold breeze rolled out and brushed by him, an invisible fog thick enough to make him choke.  _

 

_ “Kurt…” someone called out.  _

 

_ “...Kurt…” _

 

“Kurt!” 

 

Kurt peeled his eyes open and was was greeted by darkness, a figure looming over him in his bed. 

 

He heard himself croak, “What do you want?”

 

There was no point in the boy answering, since the reason he woke Kurt up did that for him. There was loud scratching coming from underneath the cabin, followed by the sound of something squishy and a wheeze or two. Kurt sat up, about as alert as his bunk mates who all looked at each other terrified. 

 

“You woke me up for this?” he groaned. 

 

One of the boys spoke up, “Hey! If the rest of us have to be scared by it, so do you! We live together, we get scared together. That's the rule.” 

 

He would've argued in his half-asleep state, but someone else piped up, “Besides, we need someone to go check it out and we need everyone awake so it's fair.”

 

That was the moment Kurt checked out mentally. He let his head drop back to his pillow, but the sweet embrace of slumber was snatched from him when the boy who woke him up yanked his blanket down. 

 

“Get up, man. You either join us or we don't let you sleep.” 

 

“... Fine.”

 

Reluctantly, he got up and joined the small circle the other three formed, one boy holding four sticks in his hand. He told each boy to pick one, leaving the last one in his hand. 

 

“Alright. Whoever has the shortest stick gets to go outside, alright?” 

 

They each examined their stick, and lo and behold, Kurt was the lucky loser. He cursed under his breath as he put on his shoes, the others shoving him out the door until they slammed it behind him. 

 

His lack of enthusiasm soon turned into dread as he stepped around the cabin, armed only with a flashlight. He could see the other boys watch him through the window, their faces practically squished against the glass. When he got to the back of the small building, he found a hole dug into the soft dirt, just underneath. 

 

Squatting down, he shined the light in. His breath caught in his throat when a glowing pair of eyes peered at him in the darkness. He deemed that enough of an investigation and scampered back to the door, finding it locked. 

 

“Uh-uh, sorry, man.” one of the boys called out, “But we're not letting you in until you get rid of it.”

 

“What if it tries to bite me?” Kurt huffed. 

 

The only response he got was the window opening and something being tossed out. When he saw what it was, he rubbed at his temples. 

 

“A plastic knife? Really?”

 

He groaned but took it anyway. His steps were silent as he crept back to the creature’s makeshift cave, this time, prepared to shank anything should it even think about putting up a fight. Kurt was a pacifist by nature, but if the option presented itself, he wasn't afraid to fight back. He really hoped that wouldn't be the case. 

 

He carefully shined the light in once more, falling to his hands and knees to get a better view. The flashlight shined on what they were dealing with, and it was enough to make his eyes pop wide open. 

 

Kurt dropped the knife and carefully put an arm inside the hole, blindly reaching for something to grab onto, but caught nothing more than handfuls of air. He cursed under his breath, lowering himself more to climb in up to his shoulders. Either this hole was larger than average, or he was just that scrawny. Maybe both, who cared? He certainly didn't, seeing as the thing he was trying to grab backed away. 

 

He wouldn't be able to go back to bed without removing this nuisance once and for all, so he crawled in as far as he could go, wrapping his arms around the nighttime assailant. 

 

Just as he tried to maneuver back out, he heard the unmistakable crunch of approaching footsteps. Before he could even react, someone grabbed his ankle and yanked him out, dragging him and his cargo through the mud. The moment he got out, all he saw was a bright light shined in his face, and two dark silhouettes towering over him. 

 

One of them barked, “Just what do you think you're doing?” 

 

“Uhh…  _ ich verstehe nicht. _ ”

 

“What? Ugh, whatever. Get up, we're taking you to the Professor.”

 

~

 

It was a strange chain of events, Kurt thought to himself as he sat in a plush chair in the amber lit office. Not that their little film festival was a direct cause, but it was definitely a catalyst. Everyone was on edge when they came back to their cabins, so it would make sense that the second someone heard a strange sound, they'd chalk it up to some monster and force someone to go investigate. Unfortunately for Kurt, he just happened to be that person. 

 

So… what exactly was the protocol when it came to mud covered campers? For that matter, what was the protocol for mud covered campers who just happened to find a small, filthy dog underneath their cabin? 

 

Speaking of, the little creature sat in his lap and panted, a mud-stained French Bulldog that squinted up at him. The poor thing had no collar, but he highly doubted it was a stray that wandered in. It probably got stuck in the first place chasing rabbits. Whatever the case was, he'd have to figure it out and soon if he wanted to save himself from being skinned by the Professor. 

 

Kurt’s eyes peered up at the walls, covered in frame after frame of pictures and documents. It was a dazzling array of awards or black and white photographs filled with grainy, smiling faces. Directly behind the desk in front of him was a large diploma - a Ph.D. in biology. It made sense now how the man got his nickname.

 

The desk held a few frames too, next to neat stacks of paper. One picture lined in gold caught his attention, an old one of the Professor and a man and a woman. If he had to guess, it was from late 1980s, judging by the fashion sense of the photo's inhabitants. Xavier looked dashing with his crystalline eyes and a full head of hair, the tall man next to him was scruffy with an intense gaze that betrayed his smile, while the woman looked like she was laughing and tugging on her dress. He recognized her as that woman he nearly ran into in Hank’s office. 

 

The door clicked open and in rolled in the Professor, clad in a robe with exhaustion clear as day by those bags under his eyes. Kurt expected a scowl on his face, but no, the man remained eerily calm, going behind his desk and smiling at him as if this were just a pleasant chat. 

 

“ _ Herr _ Xavier, I didn't mean to-” Kurt began, only to be cut off when the man lifted a hand up in a soft gesture of silence. 

 

“It's alright, Kurt.” He said, “You're not in trouble. I'd just like a small explanation.” 

 

Kurt hesitantly opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find a way to condense the night's activities into something simple that wouldn't indict anyone. The Professor must've been great with children, because all he did was sit there and offer a calm smile, a strange patience to him that could rival any saint. 

 

“I, um… I heard a noise outside and went to see what it was… I found this one,” he made a quick gesture to the dog in his lap, “In a hole under the cabin, so I went to get it out, but some counselors found me…” 

 

The Professor closed his eyes and nodded, leaning back in his wheelchair. The soft smile he had grew into an outright grin, laughter bubbling from his chest. 

 

He chuckled, “I really should be thanking you, Kurt. It seems as if you've found someone's missing pet.” 

 

Unbeknownst to the rest of the campers, apparently one of the counselors had a small dog they kept under wraps. Although, they couldn't keep it hidden for long under Xavier’s watchful eye, nothing could hide from him. 

 

“I'm not saying who lost the dog, I'm sure they'd like to keep their identity a secret, but I'm sure they'll be happy to discover you found the poor thing.” The man rolled out from behind the desk, parking next to Kurt only to take the dog in his lap. “Don't worry about it, my boy, I'll see to it that they'll get their missing companion back. Why don't you clean up and head back to bed. And as a little reward, I'll let you sleep in a bit, I'm sure you must be tired after all this.”

 

Xavier maneuvered through the door with his only free hand, the other busy keeping the dog in place. He quietly offered a nod in response and disappeared around the corner when Kurt mumbled, “ _ Danke _ , Professor.” 

 

The moment he was alone, he slumped in his chair, releasing the air trapped in his lungs. He couldn't relax for long, though, because one of the counselors who caught him returned to deliver him back to his cabin. Despite the scowl on their face, Kurt grinned to himself as he followed behind. Truth be told, he looked forward to the morning.

 

Although, his troubles weren't over just yet. It seemed this night had one last thing to curse him with. 

 

When he offered a few thankful words to the counselor, they looked at him and sighed, “Just get back inside, you little  _ nightcrawler. _ ” 

  
Kurt didn't quite understand what that meant, but did as he was told. Too bad for him he'd be hearing that name more and more over the course of the summer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank Matt Williams for their help, they've been really nice and all sorts of awesome. Also, if there are any problems, inconsistencies, or if something needs to be changed, please don't hesitate to tell me and I'll do my best to correct it.   
> Also: I apologize if anyone seems out of character, because only recently have I been able to watch x-men first class and days of future past. I had never seen them prior to writing, so I honestly didn't know much about the characters included. I based the ones in story mostly off apocalypse, the original comics, and cartoons. So if anyone thinks a character is behaving weird and needs to be changed, go ahead and say something, I'd hate to create bad imitations of the originals.


	5. Small update

I hope I didn't get anyone's hopes up for a new chapter, because that's still in the works and won't see the light of day for some time.

Anyways, I'm sorry for going on such a long hiatus, but a lot of stuff came up in the past few months. Not to get too personal, but I fell into a pretty deep depression and it got really bad (like, I was threatened with being sent to an asylum kind of bad). Long story short, I'm doing much better now and I'm trying to get back into the swing of things. 

The main topic of this update is about this current story - I don't know what to do with it. I am a bit rusty in terms of writing, so reading back on this, it makes me feel like I'm not living up to my full potential because I know I can do so much better. That being said, I have two options and I'd like an opinion from my readers: 1) I continue on with the story as is or, 2) I start from scratch with longer, more well written chapters.

I'm partial to the second option, because I'd like to have this story live up to my expectations. I've read plenty of other really great fanfics, and I want to use them as references, which will in turn stretch out the story. But, the problem with this is that it'll take a long time to get a chapter up. In order to have a well thought out, lengthy chapter, I'll have to take my time planning and writing it out. So, I can either continue as planned with the chapters as they are at a regular pace, or I can restart the entire story and rewrite it with longer, better chapters at a much slower pace. Opinions on this matter would be greatly appreciated. 

In other news, I quit my odd job at the farmer's market (again, due to extreme depression), so I'm strapped for cash. So, I've been thinking about opening commissions for both writing and drawing. But, I don't have any samples of my work up, so I highly doubt I'll attract any patronage. So, in the meantime, I'm going to take requests, mostly for writing because I'm rusty when it comes to drawing.

I'll take any request regarding x-men, I'm open to most ships (nightangel, beast/quicksilver, jubilee/storm, etc.), and I'm open to writing nsfw. I'm also open to writing for other fandoms, but I'll need to discuss it, I'm not familiar with every fandom after all (like anime, I don't know squat about anime). Keep in mind I do have the right to say no to any request, and I might mix requests together. Other than that, feel free to ask. I'd like to build up a nice portfolio for future commissions. 

If you'd like to contact me, you can reach me at 23monsterboy on Tumblr. Thank you all for being patient with me, and I hope to get back in the swing of things soon. 

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if I butchered any German, or didn't put enough to really seem authentic. I do understand the language, but just barely, so I'm not confident enough to type in full sentences. But I'll try my best to give you all a nice language lesson or two in a few chapters. 
> 
> Also, since I am the only person writing and editing this, I would like some one-on-one feedback, should anyone be interested in helping me. I'd like to be able to discuss ideas for scenes and future chapters, as well as help with editing. I'm sorry, I just really like sharing things with people who share my interests.


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